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me to go?"

"Well, it's Saturday night," she returned, "and my child's coming home.
And my child is a troublesome, bad child, and costs me a world of
scolding. I would rather you didn't see my child."

"A doll?" said the visitor, not understanding, and looking for an
explanation.

But Lizzie, with her lips only, shaping the two words, "_Her father_,"
he took his leave immediately, and presently the weak and shambling
figure of the child's father stumbled in, to be expostulated with, and
scolded, and treated as the person of the house always treated him, when
he came home in such a pitiable condition.

While they ate their supper, Lizzie tried to bring the child round again


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