December 4
Went to the Veterinary Surgeon and begged of him the skull of a horse. Carried the trophy home under my arm—bare to the public view. “Why, Lor’, ’tis an ole ’orse’s jib,” M⸺ said when I got back.
December 4
Went to the Veterinary Surgeon and begged of him the skull of a horse. Carried the trophy home under my arm—bare to the public view. “Why, Lor’, ’tis an ole ’orse’s jib,” M⸺ said when I got back.