He bullied frankly. "A doctor? What he needs is a good jolt of aromatic spirits of ammonia. Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to look as cheerful and composed as he could; "what brings you to town, eh?— Nothing amiss, I trust?" "Nothing whatever, Sir," answered the widow. I meant mischief. It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house.
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