"Why, Margaret, you must not be hurt, but he was much prettier than you were. I remember, when I first saw you in Dixon's arms, I said, 'Dear, what an ugly little thing!' And she said, 'It's not every child that's like Master Fred, bless him!' Dear! how well I remember it. Then I could have had Fred in my arms every minute of the day, and his cot was close by my bed; and now, now--Margaret--I don't know where my boy is, and sometimes I think I shall never see him again."

'Why, Margaret, you must not be hurt, but he was much prettier than you were. I remember, when I first saw you in Dixon's arms, I said, "Dear, what an ugly little thing!" And she said, "It's not every child that's like Master Fred, bless him!" How well I remember it. I could have had Fred in my arms every minute of the day, and his cot was by my bed; and now - I don't know where my boy is, and sometimes I think I shall never see him again.'
