But that is not the question.

My mummy! my mummy!" he rapped the wood furiously--"how does my mummy come to be here ?" "I don't know," said Mrs.Jasher, still furious, "and I don't care." "Don't care: don't care, when I look forward to your helping me in my lifework! As my wife--" "I shall never be your wife," cried the widow, stamping again.

"I wouldn't be your wife for a thousand or a million pounds.

Marry your mummy, you horrid, red-faced, crabbed little--" "Hush! hush!" whispered Lucy, taking the angry woman round the waist, "you must make allowances for my father.

He is so excited over his good fortune that he--" "I shall not make allowance," interrupted Mrs.Jasher angrily.