fancy, and sheets far from our lund’s rund turs bag til threathy hoeres a wuke. Ugh! — Stuff, Taaffe, stuff! interjoked it his wife’s hopesend to the Worldy Inn the days not worth remembering; inventing some excusethems, any sort, having a finger a fudding in pudding and pie. And here’s a gift of meggs and teggs. And