" Thames Darrell was, indeed, a youth of whom a person of far greater worldly consequence than the worthy carpenter might have been justly proud. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. You two can talk in Lucy and Shar’s room for a few minutes. ” Sir John clutched at the table with both hands. "I don't think he would," acquiesced the carpenter. "I'm never satisfied with a first attempt. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. “There is my aunt,” she said.
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