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A Rough Shaking by George MacDonald
page 164 of 412 (39%)
He was able now. With the farmer behind, and the hungry ones before
him, he _must_ run; and with the phial in his pocket and the loaf in
his hands, he _could_ run. Happily the farmer did not catch sight of
him. His wife took care he should not. I believe, indeed, she got up a
brand-new quarrel with him on the spur of the moment, that he might
not have a chance.



Chapter XXVI.

A new entrance.


Clare sped jubilant. But soon came a check to his jubilation: it was
one thing to drop from the wall, and quite another to climb to the top
of it without the help of the door! The same moment he heard the clink
of the smith's hammer on his anvil, and to go by his yard in daylight
would be to risk too much! For what would become of them if their
retreat was discovered! He stood at the foot of the brick precipice,
and stared up with helpless eyes and failing strength. Baby was
inside, hungry, and with no better nurse than ill conditioned Tommy;
her milk was in his pocket, Tommy's bread in his hand, the
insurmountable wall between him and them! He had the daylight now,
however, and there was hardly any one about: perhaps he could find
another entrance! Round the outside of the wall, therefore, like the
Midianite in the rather comical hymn, did Clare prowl and prowl. But
the wall rose straight and much too smooth wherever he looked.
Searching its face he went all along the bottom of the garden, and
then up the narrow lane between it and the garden of the next house,
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