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 UCIE scrambled up the stile with the bundle in her hand; and then she turned to say "Good-night," and to thank the washer-woman.—But what a very odd thing! Mrs. Tiggy-winkle had not waited either for thanks or for the washing bill!

She was running, running, running up the hill—and where was her white frilled cap? and her shawl? and her gown—and her petticoat?

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