stranger would present himself - the destined husband of my young
and lovely niece - in reality of illustrious and high descent, but
whose birth would be enveloped in uncertainty and mystery. Don't
tell me yours isn't," says the old gentleman, who was in such a
hurry to speak that he couldn't get the words out fast enough, "for
I know better."

'Gentlemen, Tom was so astonished when he heard him say this, that
he could hardly keep his footing on the ladder, and found it
necessary to hold on by the lamp-post. There WAS a mystery about
his birth. His mother had always admitted it. Tom had never known
who was his father, and some people had gone so far as to say that
even SHE was in doubt.

'While he was in this state of amazement, the old gentleman leaves
the window, bursts out of the house-door, shakes the ladder, and
Tom, like a ripe pumpkin, comes sliding down into his arms.

'"Let me embrace you," he says, folding his arms about him, and
nearly lighting up his old bed-furniture gown at Tom's link.
"You're a man of noble aspect. Everything combines to prove the
accuracy of my observations. You have had mysterious promptings
within you," he says; "I know you have had whisperings of
greatness, eh?" he says.

'"I think I have," says Tom - Tom was one of those who can persuade
themselves to anything they like - "I've often thought I wasn't the
small beer I was taken for."

'"You were right," cries the old gentleman, hugging him again.