‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. "You have," rejoined Jonathan, laying a forcible grasp on his shoulder. Taking up a couple of large stones which lay near, Jack tried to beat the round basils of the fetters into an oval form, so as to enable him to slip his heels through them. Perhaps the boys had already faced off and he had missed it, he thought sourly.
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