No one else?"

I avoided the issue. "You don't mind, then, Mother," I said. "You are
willing that I should try the experiment?"

"I am glad, if it pleases you. And you must let me say this now, Roscoe,
because it is true and I mean it. If another and better opportunity
comes to you, one that might take you away from Denboro--and from
me--for a time, of course, I want you to promise me that you will not
refuse it on my account. Will you promise?"

"No. Of course I shan't promise any such thing. Is it likely that I
would leave you, Mother?"

"I know that you would not leave me unless I were willing for you to
go. I know that, Roscoe. But I am much better and stronger than I was. I
shall never be well--"

"Don't say that," I interrupted, hastily.

"But I must say it, because it is true. I shall never be well, but I am
strong enough now to bear the thought of your leaving me and when the
time comes I shall insist upon your doing so. I am glad we have had this
talk, dear. I am glad, too, that you are going to be busy once more in
the way you like and ought to be. You must tell me about your work every
day. Now go, because your dinner is ready and, of course, you must be
getting back to the bank. Kiss me, Boy."

And as I bent over her she put her arms about my neck.

"Boy," she whispered, "I know there is some reason for your doing this,
a reason which you have not told me. You will tell me some day, won't
you?"

I straightened hurriedly and tried to laugh. "Of course I'll tell you,
Mother," I replied. "If there is anything to tell."

The clam pie was on the table in the dining-room and Dorinda was seated
majestically before it. Lute was fidgeting in his chair.

"Here he is," he exclaimed, as I joined the pair at the table. "Ros, how
did you ever come to do it?"

His wife squelched him, as usual. "If Roscoe's got anything to tell,"
she observed, with dignity, "he'll tell it without your help or anybody
else's. If he ain't, he won't. This pie's colder than it ought to be,
but that isn't my fault."

As I ate I told them of my sudden determination to become a laboring
man. I gave the reasons that I had given Mother.

"Um-hm," said Dorinda.

"But I can't understand," pleaded Lute. "You don't need to work, and
I've sort of took a pride in your not doin' it. If I was well-off, same
as you be, I bet George Taylor'd have to whistle afore I wore out MY
brains in his old bank."

"He wouldn't have time to whistle mo