She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. “I wonder if you give me a thought. Happy Thanksgiving. I'm not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think. “That cannot happen!” She replied, feeling her world start to disintegrate underneath her feet.
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