“Wasn't dear mother so happy with us, tonight? Now, you needn't go to sleep, so suddenly. I say, wasn't she so happy! _You don't know?_ How can you say you don't know? You must have seen it. But she always is happier here than anywhere else. Ha! what a temper that dear soul has! I call it a temper of satin; it is so smooth, so easy, and so soft. Nothing puts her out of the way. And then, if you only knew how she takes your part, Caudle! I'm sure, if you'd been her own son ten times over, she couldn't be fonder of you. Don't you think so, Caudle? Eh, love? Now, do answer. _How can you tell?_ Nonsense, Caudle; you must have seen it. I'm sure, nothing delights the dear soul so much as when she's thinking how to please you. “Don't you remember Thursday night, the stewed oysters, when you came home? That was all dear mother's doings! 'Margaret,' says she to me, 'it's a cold night; and don't you think dear Mr. Caudle would like something nice before he goes to bed? And that, Caudle, is how the oysters came about. Now, don't sleep, Caudle: do listen to me, for five minutes; 'tisn't often I speak, goodness knows. “And then, what a fuss she makes when you 're out, if your slippers arn't put to the fire for you. _She's very good?_ Yes--I know she is, Caudle. And hasn't she been six months--though I promised her not to tell you--six months, working a watch-pocket for you! And with _her_ eyes, dear soul--and at _her_ time of life! “And then what a cook she is? I'm sure, the dishes she'll make out of next to nothing! I try hard enough to follow her: but I'm not ashamed to own it, Caudle, she quite beats me. Ha! the many nice little things she'd simmer up for you--and I can't do it; the children, you know it, Caudle, take so much of my time. I can't do it, love: and I often reproach myself that I can't. Now, you shan't go to sleep, Caudle; at least; not for five minutes. You must hear me. “I've been thinking, dearest--ha! that nasty cough, love!--I've been thinking, darling, if we could only persuade dear mother to come and live with us. Now, Caudle, you can't be asleep; it's impossible--you were coughing only this minute--yes, to live with us. What a treasure we should have in her! Then, Caudle, you never need go to bed without something nice and hot. And you want it, Caudle. _You don't want it?_ Nonsense, you do; for you're not strong, Caudle; you know you're not. “I'm sure, the money she'd save us in housekeeping. Ha! what an eye she has for a joint! The butcher doesn't walk that could deceive dear mother. And then, again, for poultry! What a finger and thumb she has for a chicken! I never could market like her; it's a gift--quite a gift.