n
his explanation rather than this tone of lightest persiflage.

"I don't see how--" she began, but checked herself. A slight flush
mounted in her cheeks.

"See how what, mother? Please don't leave me dangling; I'm willing to
take all you can give. I deserve it."

"I wasn't going to blame you, Champney. I'm the last one to do
that--Life teaches each in her own way. I was only thinking I didn't see
how any girl _could_ resist loving you, dear."

"Oh, ho! Don't you, mother mine! Well, commend me to a doting--"

"I'm _not_ doting, Champney," she protested, laughing; "I know your
faults better than you know them yourself."

"A doting mother, I say, to brace up a man fallen through his pride. Do
you mean to say"--, he sprang to his feet, faced her, his hands thrust
deep in his pockets, his face alive with the fun of the moment,--"do you
mean to say that if you were a girl I should prove irresistible to you?
Come now, mother, tell me, honor bright."

She raised her eyes to his. The flush faded suddenly in her cheeks,
leaving them unnaturally white; her eyes filled with tears.

"I should worship you," she said under her breath, and dropped her head
into her hands. He sprang up the steps to her side.

"Why, mother, mother, don't speak so. I'm not worthy of it--it shames
me. Here, look up," he took her bowed head tenderly between his hands
and raised it, "look into my face; read it well--interpret, and you will
cease to idealize, mother."

She wiped her eyes, half-smiling through her tears. "I'm not idealizing,
Champney, and I didn't know I could be so weak; I think--I think the
telegram and your coming so unexpectedly--"

"I know, mother," he spoke soothingly, "it was too much; you've been too
long alone. I'm glad I'm at home at last and can run up here almost any
time." He patted her shoulder softly, and whistled for Rag. "Come, put
on your shade hat and we'll go up to the quarries. I want to see them;
do you realize they are the largest in the country? It's wonderful what
a change they've made here! After all, it takes America to forge ahead,
for we've got the opportunities and the money to back them--and what
more is needed to make us great?" He spoke lightly, expecting no
answer.

She brought her hat and the two went up the side road under the elms to
the quarry.

Ay, what more is needed to make us great? That is the question. There
comes a time when a man, whose ears are not wholly deafened by the roar
of