lf not to be spanned so readily as in the
tentative conversations of a single walk. Often in the middle of
Castleton's chronicles, she would wish desperately to talk of events
long buried, to set out before him her life, to argue openly the rights
and wrongs of deeds that so far she had only disputed with herself. In a
way it was unsatisfactory to pick up a few broken threads of a
friendship, leaving the reel untouched. Perhaps it was better to let the
past and the present alone. Gradually London dropped out of the
conversation. She wondered if, seeing London again, she would be as much
disappointed as by the tale and rumor of it borne down here by an old
friend. Gradually the conversation veered to the main occupations of
Jenny's mind--May and young Frank. May's future was easy to forecast.
She must in these fresh airs grow stronger and healthier, and supply
with the passing of every day a more complete justification of the
marriage. But what of young Frank's future? Jenny could not bear the
notion of him tied to the soil. She wanted his life to hold experience
before he retreated here to store up the grain and the gold. There must
be a great deal of her in young Frank. He could not, should not be
contented with bullocks and pigs and straight furrows.

Castleton listened sympathetically to her ambitions for the baby, and
promised faithfully that when the time came, he would do his best to
help Jenny achieve for her son at least one prospect of humanity, one
flashing opportunity to examine life.

"You see, I knew what I wanted when I was quite tiny. Of course nothing
was what I thought it would be. Nothing. Only I wanted to go on the
stage and I went. I shouldn't like for young Frank to want to do
something and have to stick here."

"You've a fine notion of things, Jane," said Castleton. "By gad, if
every mother were like you, what a race we should have."

"I'm not in a hurry for him to do anything."

"I meant what a race of Englishmen, not bicycles," Castleton explained.

"Oh, I see," said Jenny vaguely. He was taking her aspirations out of
their depth.

"No, but I do think it's dreadful," she went on, "to see kids moping
just because their mothers and fathers want them to stick at home. My
mother wasn't like that. Yes, she used to go on at me, but she always
wanted me to enjoy myself so long as she knew there was no harm in it."

"Your mother, Jane, must have been a great woman."

"I don't know about that, b