On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. "Pursue him," cried Thames to the attendants, "and see that he does not escape. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp. E.
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