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. "Put it under my pillow," he said. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. She pulled him down by his lapels and arched her head readily towards his neck. " "Have you told him so?" she inquired, reproachfully. "Then you need no further information from me," rejoined Jackson, sternly.
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