and
seeing him cut up rough. If he would only be sensible and give me my
way in this, there is nothing I would not do to please him. You must
talk to him; you must indeed, mother." And then Mrs. Mayne, with a
sinking heart, promised that she would do what she could.

And after that it would be her husband's turn.

"I tell you what Bessie; I am not satisfied about that boy," he
remarked, once, as he came in to warm his hands before going upstairs
to dress for dinner. "I don't know from whom he gets his
obstinacy,--not from either of us, I am sure of that,--but his
cheerfulness does not deceive me. He means mischief; I can see that
plainly."

"Oh, Richard! And Dick has been so nice to you ever since he came
home. Why, he has not once asked to have any of his friends down to
stay. And before this he was never content unless we filled the house.
He takes walks with you, and is as domesticated and quiet as possible,
so different from other young fellows, who are always racketing
about."

"That is just what bothers me," returned her husband, crossly. "You
have no discernment, Bessie, or you would know what I mean. I should
not care a straw if Dick were to cram the house with young fellows:
that sort of larking is just natural at his age. Why, he quite
pooh-poohed the idea of a dinner-party the other night, though I
planned it for his pleasure. His mind is set on other things, and that
is why I say he is up to mischief."

Mrs. Mayne sighed as she smoothed down her satin dress with her plump
white hands; but she could not gainsay the truth of this speech: his
father was right,--Dick's mind was set on other things.

"I wish you would let him talk to you," she began, timidly,
remembering her promise. "Do, my dear; for I am sure Dick is very much
in earnest."

"So am I very much in earnest," he returned, wrathfully; and his small
eyes grew bright and irritable. "No, it is no use your looking at me
in that way, Bessie. I am determined not to allow that boy to ruin
his prospects for life. He will thank me one day for being firm; and
so will you, though you do turn against your own husband."

This was too much for Mrs. Mayne's affectionate nature to bear.

"Oh, Richard, how can you talk so? and I have been a good wife to you
all these years!" And here the poor woman began to sob. "You might
make allowance for a mother's feelings; he is my boy as well as yours,
and I would cut off my right hand to make him happy; and I do