’ ‘Ah yes. “She must be warned. 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. The knight, who could ill brook this familiarity, instantly arose. . The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. "Why, you don't think as how they're crimps, do you?" Ben inquired. ‘He don’t mean you no harm.
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