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 half smothering the poor wretch. That looks as if it was somebody the dog knew.”

And the poor creature, the sick, famished, ragged creature writhed on his straw, and groaned and gasped as if for speech.

“Where are Mary’s salts, girls? See how Neptune’s licking the poor wretch’s hands! Where is Mary?”

And at that instant Mary entered; the sick man half rose up, and she knew him! “ William! gracious God! ’tis William!” And instantly she was kneeling at his side, and supporting him in her arms, aided, as it happened, by our old friend the keeper, who had been taking his morning draught in the tap. Poor William looked from one to the other—

“Are ye married?” said he, with a strong effort.

“ Yes,” said George; “no,” said Mary; both in a breath.

“To think of my not knowing my own son!” exclaimed the father, bending over him, the tears running over his rough cheeks. “But his very mother could not have known him, so fond of him as she used to be! Nobody would, but Mary. Welcome home, my boy! We'll soon set thee up again. Welcome, my own dear boy!”

“Welcome home, dear William!” echoed the sobbing sisters.

But William listened to none of them. “Are you married?” was again his question.