Now, try it." A very old, bent, feeble woman with a pail of water and cloths tottered on.

Her dress was ragged, her white hair hung about her sad old face in disorderly strands.

She set down her bucket and raised her torn apron to her eyes.
"Look up and see her," called Baird.

"A glad light comes into her eyes.
Rush forward--say 'Mother' distinctly, so it'll show.

Now the clench.
You're crying on his shoulder, Mother, and he's looking down at you first, then off, about at me.