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 54 can't do it, love; and I often reproach myself that I can't. Now, you shan't go to sleep, Caudle; at least not for five minutes. You must hear me.

MRS. CAUDLE'S DEAR MOTHER.

"I've been thinking, dearest—ha! that nasty cough, love!—I've been thinking, darling, if we could only persuade dear mother to come and live with us. Now, Caudle, you can't be asleep; it's impossible—you were coughing only this minute—yes, to live with us. What a treasure we should have in her! Then, Caudle, you never need go to bed without something nice and hot. And you want it, Caudle.