An old lady who lived in Hill Street was making arrangements to enter upon her seventy-fourth year. It was a quarter to nine in the morning by the ormolu clock on the chimney-piece; and the old lady, somewhat shriveled, very wide-awake, and in the absence of her toupee from the position it was accustomed to grace--at present it was in the center of the dressing-table--looking remarkably like a macaw, was sitting up in bed. Cushions supported her venerable form, and an Indian shawl, the gift of her Sovereign, covered her aged shoulders.…
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