John’s best friend’s parents were to be out of town again, he reported. “You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. " "I must trouble you to hold the child, then, for a minute, while I run up to the garret, where I've hidden it for safety," said Mrs. “I don’t think you can have heard me, Vee,” he said, with intensely controlled fury. He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed. But me, I am going to England. 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.
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