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"Is it you?" "It is," replied her son, "Oh! why would you not listen to me?" "I was distracted," replied Mrs. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. She felt terrible lying to him. She hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether. He was going to tell me something— and he shut up. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter. "If that sickly brat lives to be a man," continued Jonathan, rising, "I'll hang him upon the same tree as his father. "I had to give in to him.
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