Using the arms of her chair for support, Adam's mother rose to her feet.
The mother rose on being so addressed and fell upon the woman's neck.
His mother rose from the straight-backed chair by the window and faced the door.
My mother rose up and stared at me through her tears.
My mother generally rose later than he did, although neither one would have been considered a night dweller.
He heard the creak of a chair as his mother rose to answer it.
Her mother rose at 7 and recited a special prayer.
The story came to an end, the mother rose at last, with the child clinging round her neck.
My mother cried out and rose to run forward, with me following.
The boy's mother also rose and put her arm around her son's shoulders.