Her little white hand stole across the table. “A most wonderful likeness, too. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. Wood, joining the group, "it isn't Thames Darrell come to life again?" "It is—it is!" cried Winifred, rushing towards him, and flinging her arms round his neck,—"it is my dear—dear brother!" "Well, this is what I never expected to see," said the carpenter, wiping his eyes; "I hope I'm not dreaming! Thames, my dear boy, as soon as Winny has done with you, let me embrace you.
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