“Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. Bring me food, a man, hurry!” She placed the stone back over the crypt to hide the evidence of what she had uncovered. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine. I am an educated Chinese, and I resent the imputations against my race. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. I can see that you were somebody, in another day. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home.
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