"Come with me, my love, come—come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away. Keep his arms down. I do want them. A sudden knock at the door startled her. ” She could not go on, for she was laughing and crying at the same time. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart. Fifteen from forty is twenty-five. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries.
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