s my last penny. We thought then that Harry was too
young to assume such--"

"I am not too young now, mother, and I wish to join John in every
obligation my father made for himself and us. After this John must tithe
my share just as he tithes his own."

Then while her heart was overflowing with a religious love and joy in
her sons, Mrs. Hatton rose and bid them good night. "I will go to my
room," she said. "I'll warrant I shall find the very company I want
there."

"Stay with us, mother," said Harry. "I want to talk to you," and he was
so persistent that it fretted her, and she asked with a touch of
impatience,

"Harry Hatton, have you yet to learn that when a woman wants to be by
herself she is expecting better company than you can give her?"

For a few moments the young men were silent. Mrs. Hatton took so much
vitality out of the room with her that the level of the atmosphere was
sensibly disturbed, and had to be readjusted before it was comfortably
useful. John sat still during this period. His sight was inward and
consequently his eyes were dropped. Harry was restless, his sight was
outward and his eyes far-seeking. He was the first to speak.

"John," he said, in a tone holding both anger and grief, "John, you
behaved unkindly to me this evening. You either persuaded mother to talk
as she did, or you fell in with her intention and helped her."

"You might speak plainer, Harry."

"I will. Both mother and you, either by accident or agreement, prevented
me naming Lucy. Lucy was the only subject I wanted to talk about, and
you prevented me."

"If I did, it was the wisest and kindest thing I could do."

"For yourselves--but how about me?"

"I was thinking of you only."

"Then you must think of Lucy with me."

"It is not yet a question of _must_. If it comes to that, both mother
and I will do all the situation calls for. In the interval, we do not
wish to discuss circumstances we may never be compelled to face."

"Then you are counting on my being drowned at sea, or on Lucy dying or
else marrying someone while I am away."

John was silent so long that Harry began to enlarge on his last
proposition. "Of course," he continued, "I may be drowned, and if Lucy
was false to me a watery grave of any kind would be welcome; but----"

"Harry," said John, and he leaned forward and put his hand on his
brother's knee, "Harry, my dear lad, listen to me. I am going to tell
you something I have never told even mother