"My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. 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. She felt her skills make a belated return. “It isn’t a joke,” she said. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. ” “Oh, I might,” he answered, “have gone further still. Moments are ages now. “Boys!” said Capes. " Davies reluctantly complied. "Thumping; but that's only excitement. .
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