her words.

This unqualified backing that he got from Violet's parents went far to
sustain Ransome in the conflict with his own. He could, indeed, have
embraced Mr. and Mrs. Usher when, in consequence of one Sunday
afternoon's communion with these excellent people, his mother declared
herself more reconciled than she had been to the idea of Ranny's
marrying. Between Ranny's mother and Mrs. Usher there was established in
one Sunday afternoon the peculiar sympathy and intimacy of parents who
live supremely in their children. With her rosy, full-blown, robust
benevolence, Mrs. Usher was a powerful pleader. She put it to Mrs.
Ransome that nothing mattered so long as the young people were happy.
If in the pursuit of happiness the young people failed in the first year
or two to make ends meet, surely among them all they could be given a
helping hand. She was sure that Mr. Usher would do anything he could, in
reason. The comfortable woman declared that she had taken a fancy such
as never was to Ranny, so had Mr. Usher, and he wasn't, she could assure
you, one to take a fancy every day. She had never had a boy (and it
wasn't for not wanting), but if she _had_ had one she'd have wished him
to be just such another as Ranny. Ranny, she was certain, was that
clever he'd be sure to get along. To which argument Mrs. Ransome had to
yield. For she was confronted with a dilemma, having either to agree
with Mrs. Usher or to maintain that her Ranny was not clever enough to
get along. So that before Sunday evening she found herself partaking in
the large-hearted tolerance and optimism of Violet's parents, and
forcing her view upon Uncle and Aunt Randall.

Only Mr. Ransome held out. He refused to be worked upon by argument. To
Ranny's amazement, the old Humming-bird bore himself in those days of
stress, not with that peculiar savage obduracy that distinguished his
more insignificant hostilities, but with a certain sad and fine
insistence. It was as if for the first time in his life he was aware
that he cared for his son Randall and was afraid of losing him. The
Humming-bird could hardly have suffered more if the issue had been
Randall's death and not his marriage. But when the thing was settled,
all he said was, "I don't like it, Mother, I don't like it."

How profoundly it had disturbed him was shown in this, that for the
three weeks before Ranny's wedding-day he remained completely sober.

* * * * *

So