Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.
It couldn't happen to a more excellent woman.(Promptly abolish all committees and institute a reign of terror over the parish fair.)
Can I move to your village? And knit things for jumble sales? And have angst about what to serve the visiting seamstress for tea? - Karen
Y'all have got the idea straight away. I knew I could count on my very clever regulars.
May all your dreams come true!
No, no, no, an Elizabeth Goudge novel! You'd be perfect.
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