A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night. 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. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life.
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