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From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. I thought that you were he. So 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. ‘You obstinate little devil. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. Good night. " O'Higgins extracted a cigar from a pocket and inspected it. ’ Her face fell.
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