"No, I shan't," replied Rachel, saucily. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. "Oh! never mind him: he'll take no harm! Come with me into the parlour. You’ll end there one day, mark my words. She had always loved babies, like you! We ran away to the Barbars, back then, the land of the barbarian North.
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