“I wrote it for you. " Her son complied, and sat down upon the patch-work coverlet beside her. “So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled. " "Oh, that!" He raised his head, staring at her in blank astonishment. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. In lieu of the substantial habitations which he had gazed on overnight, he beheld a row of falling scaffoldings, for such they seemed. In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. ’ I received strange looks from them.
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