er." He
spoke coldly, as an only son may, but he was to be excused. He was
less spoiled than most only sons.

"In what way, my son?"

"Why--in being glad to have me go--instead of feeling as you did
then."

"Glad? Glad to have you go? It isn't that, dear. Understand me. I'm
sorry I spoke of that old time. It was only to spare your father. You
see we look at things differently. He loves to have us follow out his
plans. It is almost--death to him to have to give up; and with me--it
was not then as it is now. I don't like to think or speak of that
time."

"Don't, mother, don't!" cried Peter, contritely.

"But I must to make you see this as you should. It was love for you
then that made me cling to you, and want to hold you back from going;
just the same it is love for you now that makes me want you to go out
and find your right place in the world. I was letting you go then to
be shot at--to suffer fatigue, and cold, and imprisonment, who could
know, perhaps to be cruelly killed--and I did not believe in war. I
suppose your father was the nobler in his way of thinking, but I could
not see it his way. Angels from heaven couldn't have made me believe
it right; but it's over. Now I know your life will be made broader by
going, and you'll have scope, at least, to know what you really wish
to do with yourself and what you are worth, as you would not have, to
sit down in your father's bank, although you would be safer there, no
doubt. But you went through all the temptations of the army safely,
and I have no fear for you now, dear, no fear."

Peter Junior's heart melted. He took his mother in his arms and
stroked her beautiful white hair. "I love you, mother, dear," was all
he could say. Should he tell her of Betty now? The question died in
his heart. It was too much. He would be all hers for a little, nor
intrude the new love that she might think divided his heart. He
returned to the question of his father's consent. "Mother, what shall
I do if he will not give it?"

"Wait. Try to be patient and do what he wishes. It may help him to
yield in the end."

"Never! I know Dad better than that. He will only think all the more
that he is in the right, and that I have come to my senses. He never
takes any viewpoint but his own." His mother was silent. Never would
she open her lips against her husband. "I say, mother, naturally I
would rather go with his consent, but if he won't give it--How long
must a man be obedient just f