ected quarter, crying wildly: Oh, where is mamma's picture?
They will get mamma's picture?
I whispered, grasping her arms.
Or they will get it just to provoke you.
But she would not hush, and was not to be intimidated.
Horrid old things!
She went on crying angrily.
Called me Sis!
They shan't call me Sis!
Oh, where is mamma's picture?
The silver connoisseur, relieved by the diversion, made a hasty exit from the parlor, and dashed by me up-stairs.
My heart was with my Lares and Penates (two trunks!) and I as hastily followed, M. at my heels.
When or why she turned back I never could exactly discover, nor did I miss her for some minutes.
She was still in pursuit, however, of mamma's picture, which she now recollected had been given, with others, into the safekeeping of Aunt Pony, the household factotum and V.'s former nurse.
The investigating Federal proceeded to open drawers and wardrobes upon reaching my room; and, after watching him a few moments, I aske