"My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. "What's the matter?" he cried. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger. Visiting? Dressed for it, certainly. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. Taking off his stockings, he then drew up the basils as far as he was able, and tied the fragments of the broken chain to his legs, to prevent them from clanking, and impeding his future exertions.
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