She would just have to show up and hope for the best. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. All this while he was arranging the medicines on the stand and jotting down his instructions on a chart sheet. I can't keep a good man beyond three pay-days. As the day wore on, the crowds diminished,—many who would not submit to the turnkey's demands were sent away ungratified,—and at five o'clock, only two strangers, Mr. Buck up. “You are of the genus obstinate,” he said.
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