"Do please sit down, there's a good Mother Bunch, and tell me all about them? Come, suppose you do."
"Suppose I did, Miss Lucy, and where would your poor uncle's preserved ginger be, that no one knows from real West Indian?"
"Oh, let me come into your room, and you can tell me all the time you are doing the ginger."
"It is very hot there, Missie."
"That will be more like some of the places. I'll suppose I'm there! Look, Mrs. Bunker, here's a whole green sea, all over the tiniest little dots. There can't be people in them."
"Dots? You'd hardly see all over one of those dots if you were in one. That's the South Sea Miss Lucy, and those are the loveliest isles, except, may be, the West Indies, that ever I saw."
"Tell me about them, please," entreated Lucy "Here's one; its name is—is Ysabel—such a little wee one."
Lucy had a great sneezing fit, and when she looked again into the smoke, what did she see but two little black figures.
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