id to HIM. But now, gentlemen, ez we see she
ain't that kind, but high-toned and level-headed, and that she's got the
grip on Prossy--whether he likes it or not--we ain't goin' to let him
go back on her! No, sir! we ain't goin' to let him break her heart the
second time! He may think we ain't good enough for her, but ez long ez
she's civil to us, we'll stand by her."

In this conscientious way were the shackles of that unhallowed
relationship slowly riveted on the unfortunate Prossy. In his
intercourse with his comrades during the next two or three days their
attitude was shown in frequent and ostentatious praise of his mother,
and suggestive advice, such as: "I wouldn't stop at the saloon, Prossy;
your old mother is wantin' ye;" or, "Chuck that 'ere tarpolin over your
shoulders, Pross, and don't take your wet duds into the house that yer
old mother's bin makin' tidy." Oddly enough, much of this advice was
quite sincere, and represented--for at least twenty minutes--the honest
sentiments of the speaker. Prosper was touched at what seemed a revival
of the sentiment under which he had acted, forgot his uneasiness, and
became quite himself again--a fact also noticed by his critics. "Ye've
only to keep him up to his work and he'll be the widder's joy agin,"
said Cyrus Brewster. Certainly he was so far encouraged that he had a
long conversation with Mrs. Pottinger that night, with the result that
the next morning Joe Wynbrook, Cyrus Brewster, Hank Mann, and Kentucky
Ike were invited to spend the evening at the new house. As the men,
clean shirted and decently jacketed, filed into the neat sitting room
with its bright carpet, its cheerful fire, its side table with a snowy
cloth on which shining tea and coffee pots were standing, their hearts
thrilled with satisfaction. In a large stuffed rocking chair, Prossy's
old mother, wrapped up in a shawl and some mysterious ill health which
seemed to forbid any exertion, received them with genteel languor and an
extended black mitten.

"I cannot," said Mrs. Pottinger, with sad pensiveness, "offer you the
hospitality of my own home, gentlemen--you remember, Prosper, dear, the
large salon and our staff of servants at Lexington Avenue!--but since my
son has persuaded me to take charge of his humble cot, I hope you will
make all allowances for its deficiencies--even," she added, casting a
look of mild reproach on the astonished Prosper--"even if HE cannot."

"I'm sure he oughter to be th