I am. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “I don’t want children, Lucy. His mother used to live i' this village, just down yonder; but when her son took to bad ways, she went distracted,—and now she's i' Bedlam, I've heerd. ‘Why, that’s one of the names with which she tried to fob me off.
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