At this juncture, a cry burst from the child, who, nearly smothered by the weight imposed upon him, only recovered the use of his lungs as Wood altered the position of the bundle. It has something to do with the fact that my Mom had them when she was only seventeen. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. " "Bring him here,—let me see him—let me embrace him—let me be assured that he is safe, and I am yours. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered.
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