He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. 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. ” Ann Veronica read this letter through with grave, attentive eyes. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you.
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