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’ She tossed her head. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. ’ ‘Pah! Do you think I will run away? Do not be so foolish, and go and fetch him this instant. My will never faltered. “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. "Sit down, and enjoy yourself.
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