our ashes. There's a
newspaper."

"Pipes don't make ashes.--Mother, what do you think?" he continued,
between the puffs of his smoking; "I've got a piece of news."

"Ah?" said Mrs. Ford, fumbling for her scissors; "I hope it's good
news."

"I hope you'll think it so. I've been engaging myself"--puff,--puff--"to
Lizzie Crowe." A cloud of puffs between his mother's face and his own.
When they cleared away, Jack felt his mother's eyes. Her work was in her
lap. "To be married, you know," he added.

In Mrs. Ford's view, like the king in that of the British Constitution,
her only son could do no wrong. Prejudice is a stout bulwark against
surprise. Moreover, Mrs. Ford's motherly instinct had not been entirely
at fault. Still, it had by no means kept pace with fact. She had been
silent, partly from doubt, partly out of respect for her son. As long as
John did not doubt of himself, he was right. Should he come to do so,
she was sure he would speak. And now, when he told her the matter was
settled, she persuaded herself that he was asking her advice.

"I've been expecting it," she said, at last.

"You have? why didn't you speak?"

"Well, John, I can't say I've been hoping it."

"Why not?"

"I am not sure of Lizzie's heart," said Mrs. Ford, who, it may be well
to add, was very sure of her own.

Jack began to laugh. "What's the matter with her heart?"

"I think Lizzie's shallow," said Mrs. Ford; and there was that in her
tone which betokened some satisfaction with this adjective.

"Hang it! she is shallow," said Jack. "But when a thing's shallow, you
can see to the bottom. Lizzie doesn't pretend to be deep. I want a wife,
mother, that I can understand. That's the only wife I can love. Lizzie's
the only girl I ever understood, and the first I ever loved. I love her
very much,--more than I can explain to you."

"Yes, I confess it's inexplicable. It seems to me," she added, with a
bad smile, "like infatuation."

Jack did not like the smile; he liked it even less than the remark. He
smoked steadily for a few moments, and then he said,--

"Well, mother, love is notoriously obstinate, you know. We shall not be
able to take the same view of this subject: suppose we drop it."

"Remember that this is your last evening at home, my son," said Mrs.
Ford.

"I do remember. Therefore I wish to avoid disagreement."

There was a pause. The young man smoked, and his mother sewed, in
silence.

"I think my position, as Lizzie