He took no notice of them as they approached, but continued muttering and looking at his hands.
Charlie was almost petrified at the change wrought in his father.

A few months before he had left him in the prime of healthful manhood; now he was bent and spectrelike, and old in appearance as if the frosts of eighty winters had suddenly fallen on him.

Mrs.Ellis laid her hand gently upon his shoulder, and said, "Husband, here's Charlie." He made no reply, but continued muttering and examining his mutilated hands.

"It's Charlie," she repeated.
"Oh, ay! nice little boy!" he replied, vacantly; "whose son is he ?" Mrs.Ellis's voice quivered as she reiterated, "It's Charlie--our Charlie!--don't you know him ?" "Oh, yes! nice little boy--nice little boy.

Oh!" he continued, in a suppressed and hurried tone, as a look of alarm crossed his face; "run home quick, little boy! and tell your mother they're coming, thousands of them; they've guns, and swords, and clubs.