"Halloa!" cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—"who's that?" "Your mother," replied Mrs. Happy Thanksgiving. She looked at Lucy guiltily, wondering if she would be betrayed. ‘I haven’t been so much entertained since I left the Army. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. A very small settlement, mostly natives. I tell you that because it puts us on a footing. ‘Pray do not trouble yourself, Saling. And I, I am happy to say, am in the delightful position of being in the know.
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