"The devil you have!" thundered a voice from behind, that filled the apprentice with dismay. In this state, he was laid upon a bench, to sleep off his drunken fit, while his wretched mother, in spite of her passionate supplications and resistance, was, by Blueskin's command, forcibly ejected from the house, and driven out of the Mint. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet.
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