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Over the hills and far away there was once a quaint little old town which was safely beyond the reach of the long, grasping arms of any of the great cities. The little town nestled up against the side of a big, kind hill, at the top of which was a beautiful old country-place, called Primrose Hall. The house was a great white colonial affair that had belonged to the Flint family for generations; and at present was occupied only by two elderly maiden ladies who admirably fitted their names of Priscilla and Dorinda.