the silver fox
THERE was an air of calamity and yet of Sunday about the Quins' farmyard. The pigs were shut up, tubs and buckets were put out of sight, and Tom Quin's little nephew, in his best frock, spent many hours of blissful autocracy in banishing the fowl from the doorstep to Siberias behind the rick of turf. --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.
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