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Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge), 1825-1900

"Springhaven : a Tale of the Great War"

Yet here they were; Mary could swear to them
both, with their necks above-ground, as if waiting for the washing!
Cauliflowers also (as the cooks call broccoli of every kind), here they
were in abundance, ten long rows all across the middle square, very
beautiful to behold. Some were just curling in their crinkled coronets,
to conceal the young heart that was forming, as Miss in her teens draws
her tresses around the first peep of her own palpitation; others were
showing their broad candid bosoms, with bold sprigs of nature's green
lace crisping round; while others had their ripe breasts shielded from
the air by the breakage of their own broad fringe upon them.
Mary knew that this was done by Mr. Swipes himself, because he had
brought her some in that condition; but the unsuspicious master had
accepted his assurance that "they was only fit for pigs as soon as the
break-stalk blight come on 'em"; and then the next day he had bought
the very same, perhaps at ninepence apiece, from Mr. Cheeseman's window,
trimmed and shorn close, like the head of a monk. "I'll see every bit of
'un, now that I be here." Mrs. Knuckledown spoke aloud, to keep up her
courage. "Too bad for that old beast to keep us locked out from the very
place us ought to have for pommylarding, because he saith all the fruit
would go into our pockets. And what goes into his'en, I should like to
know? Suppose I lock him out, as he hath locked us out.


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