tedly. For all his twenty-one
years, and the scholarship which he had won so easily and which was
taking him abroad, he was as boyish and as natural as he had been at
ten. Even his love of sweets had not lessened with the increase of his
dignity. To think of his demanding cake the minute after he had entered
the house!

"Father's play made a great hit," he said presently, still steering
carefully away from the reefs of emotion. "I suppose you read all about
it in the papers?"

She shook her head, smiling. Though she tried her best to be as natural
and as unemotional as he was, she could not keep her adoration out of
her eyes, which feasted on him like the eyes of one who had starved for
months. How handsome he was, with his broad shoulders, his fine
sunburned face, and his frank, boyish smile. It was a pity he had to
wear glasses--yet even his glasses seemed to her individual and
charming. She couldn't imagine a single way in which he could be
improved, and all the while she was perfectly sure that it wasn't in the
least because she was his mother--that she wasn't a bit prejudiced in
her judgment. It appeared out of the question that anybody--even a
stranger--could have found fault with him. "No, I haven't had time to
read the papers--I've been so busy getting ready for Lucy's wedding,"
she answered. "But your father told me about it. It must be
splendid--only I wish he wouldn't speak so contemptuously of it," she
added regretfully. "He says it's trash, and yet I'm sure everybody spoke
well of it, and they say it is obliged to make a great deal of money. I
can't understand why his success seems to irritate rather than please
him."

"Well, he thinks, you know, that it is only since he's cheapened himself
that he has had any hearing."

"Cheapened himself?" she repeated wistfully. "But his first plays failed
entirely, so these last ones must be a great deal better if they are
such splendid successes."

"Well, I suppose it's hard for us to understand his point of view. We
talked about it one night in New York when we were dining with Margaret
Oldcastle--she takes the leading part in 'Pretty Fanny,' you know."

"Yes, I know. What is she like?"

A strange, still look came into her face, as though she waited with
suspended breath for his answer.

"She's a charmer on the stage. I heard father tell her that she made the
play, and I'm not sure that he wasn't right."

"But you saw her off the stage, didn't you?"

"Oh