"Black eyes--let me see--ah mamma's eyes too, and
black hair also; as I am alive, why you are mamma's own boy--the very
image of mamma."
"Do be seated, gentlemen," said Mrs. Pugwash. "Sally make a fire in
the next room."
"She ought to be proud of you," he continued. "Well, if I live to
return here, I must paint your face, and have it put on my clocks,
and our folks will buy the clocks for the sake of the face. Did you
ever see," said he, again addressing me, "such a likeness between
one human and another, as between this beautiful little boy and his
mother?"
"I am sure you have had no supper," said Mrs. Pugwash to me; "you
must be hungry and weary, too--I will get you a cup of tea."
"I am sorry to give you so much trouble," said I.
"Not the least trouble in the world," she replied, "on the contrary
a pleasure."
We were then shown into the next room, where the fire was now blazing
up, but Mr. Slick protested he could not proceed without the little
boy, and lingered behind me to ascertain his age, and concluded by
asking the child if he had any aunts that looked like mamma.
As the door closed, Mr. Slick said, "It's a pity she don't go well
in gear. The difficulty with those critters is to get them to start,
arter that there is no trouble with them if you don't check 'em too
short. If you do, they'll stop again, run back and kick like mad, and
then Old Nick himself wouldn't start 'em.
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