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Porter, Jane, 1776-1850

"Thaddeus of Warsaw"

Thaddeus took it, and pressing it softly, pulled him gently to
him, and placed him on his knee. "My little fellow," said he, kissing
him, "you are not frightened now?"
"No," said the child; "I see you are not the ugly black man who takes
away naughty boys. The ugly black man has a black face, and snakes on
his head; but these are pretty curls!" added he, laughing, and
putting his little fingers through the thick auburn hair which hung
in neglected masses over the forehead of the count.
"I am ashamed that your honor should sit in a kitchen," said the old
lady; "but I have not a fire in any other room."
"Yes," said her granddaughter, who was about twelve years old;
"grandmother has a nice first-floor up stairs, but because we have no
lodgers, there be no fire there."
"Be silent, Nanny Robson," said the dame; "your pertness teases the
gentleman."
"O, not at all," cried Thaddeus; "I ought to thank her, for she
informs me you have lodgings to let; will you allow me to engage
them!"
"You, sir!" cried Mrs. Robson, thunderstruck; "for what purpose?
Surely so noble a gentleman would not live in such a place as this?"
"I would, Mrs. Robson: I know not where I could live with more
comfort; and where comfort is, my good madam, what signifies the
costliness or plainness of the dwelling?"
"Well, sir, if you be indeed serious; but I cannot think you are; you
are certainly making a joke of me for my boldness in asking you into
my poor house.


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