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CHAPTER XX
BROTHERS OF ANGELS
INDEED, doctor," said Mrs. Schofield, with agitation and profound conviction, just after eight o'clock that evening, "I shall always believe in mustard plasters—mustard plasters and hot-water bags. If it hadn't been for them I don't believe he'd have lived till you got here—I do not!"
"Margaret," called Mr. Schofield from the open door of a bedroom, "Margaret, where did you put that aromatic ammonia? Where's Margaret?"
But he had to find the aromatic spirits of am-
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