"Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. Young people ignore them until they find themselves up against them. “We will follow you in another cab. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. It shall be done as you direct. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. ” “Two words only,” Hill repeated.
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