“You wish everybody in this world had a baby, don’t you, Clara?” said the doctor. “You see you bear ‘anger as the flint doth fire,’ as Brutus says.”

“Well,” answered Clara, taking the doctor’s hand, and looking up into his face tenderly:

“Am I not Papa’s Own Girl?”

FINIS.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

  1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling.
  2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.