One of them was an old lady, and I knew at once that I'd
seen her before, though I couldn't remember where. She was a little old
lady, and she stooped a good deal; her nose was long and hooked, and she
had a turn-up chin like in the pictures of Punch that we have at home.
Kathie saw the likeness, too, for she pulled my elbow and whispered:
"Oh, Jack, doesn't she look like Punch? Perhaps she's his wife."
The other woman was stout, and she helped the old lady along,--I think
she was a maid. As we got near them, the old lady fumbled for her
eyeglasses, put them on, and looked sharply at us. "Yes, yes, looks like
his father!" we heard her say; then, "Have we time, Sanders? I should
like to speak to them."
"Indeed, mum, we haven't time to stop," replied Sanders; "we've barely
time to catch the boat." Then they got into the hansom that was standing
at the curb, and were driven away.
Hannah opened the door, and the yell of joy that she gave when she saw
the children brought Nora flying to meet us. I couldn't help noticing
how bright and happy Nora looked, very different from when we had left
her, an hour or so before; and the way she met the children was also a
surprise to me.
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