As I live it is Mrs.Mountain on Madam's grey! "O Lor! O Golly! Hoop! Here dey come! Hurray!" A chorus of negroes rises up.

"Here dey are!" Dr.Dempster and Mrs.Mountain have clattered into the yard, have jumped from their horses, have elbowed through the negroes, have rushed into the house, have run through it and across the porch, where the British officers are sitting in muzzy astonishment; have run down the stairs to the garden where George and Harry are walking, their tall enemy stalking opposite to them; and almost ere George Warrington has had time sternly to say, "What do you do here, madam ?" Mrs.Mountain has flung her arms round his neck and cries: "Oh, George, my darling! It's a mistake! It's a mistake, and is all my fault!" "What's a mistake ?" asks George, majestically separating himself from the embrace.
"What is it, Mounty ?" cries Harry, all of a tremble.
"That paper I took out of his portfolio, that paper I picked up, children; where the Colonel says he is going to marry a widow with two children.

Who should it be but you, children, and who should it be but your mother ?" "Well ?" "Well, it's--it's not your mother.

It's that little widow Custis whom the Colonel is going to marry.

He'd always take a rich one; I knew he would.