"Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail with water. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. Then, seeing Melusine’s feathered beaver had fallen to the floor, picked that up for her.
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