r of a drab and dismal world, in which could never be aught of
happiness for him or his.

"It's not much, Don," said his mother, smiling bravely as her eyes noted
his abstraction. "I live so simply--I'm afraid a big man like you won't
get enough to eat with me."

She did not mention her special preparations for his arrival. He did not
know that the half-dozen new serviettes had been bought for his coming.
He did not know that a new chair also had been purchased, and that he
himself was sitting in it at that very time. In short, he knew nothing
of the many sacrifices needful even for these inexpensive things about
him. He did not know that marvel of the widow's cruse, filled against
dire need by the hand of merciful Providence.

"It's all right, Mother," said he, toying with his fork; "fine, fine."

"Coffee strong enough, Don?" She looked at him anxiously. Usually she
made it weak for herself.

"Oh, they never let us have it at all when we're training, mother," said
he, "and not strong at any time. I know the simple life." He smiled as
best he might.

"I have lived it here, too, Don," said she slowly, "because I couldn't
well help it. I don't suppose anybody likes it when it's too simple. I
like things nice, so much. I've always longed to travel. You know, Don,
I hear of people going over to Europe, and I'm guilty of the sin of
envy. I live right here in this little place all the time--I've done so
all my life. I've scarcely been out of this town in twenty years. If I
could see pictures--if I could go to see the great actors--if I could
see a real theater--just once, Don--you don't know how happy I'd be. And
I'm sure there must be more beautiful countries than this. Still"--and
here she sighed--"Miss Julia and I have lived quite a life together--in
the books, the magazines--pictures too, sometimes."

He looked at her dumbly now, trying to understand the steady heroism of
a life such as hers. The real character of his own mother never yet
fully had impressed itself upon him. Don Lane was a college graduate,
but now for the first time in his life he was beginning to think.

"One thing," she added, "I'd never do. I'd never pretend to be what I
was not--I didn't ever pretend to have what I didn't have. You see me,
Don, and my life, pretty much as we are."

"And all this has been for me?"

"Yes," simply. "But although we grew up apart, I don't think I could
endure it if I thought we really were to part--if you woul