Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. He had been gone entirely one day, for yesterday afternoon he had departed from Remenham House, and she had waited with patience like a saint, and now it was again the afternoon. "Well, that beats all I ever heard of!" roared Blueskin. The carpenter trembled; for he perceived Rowland's gaze fixed first upon the infant, and then on himself. \"Didn't have any,\" replied Shari. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother.
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