never do to have her come there, he thought. And his thoughts
went to the circle of friends at the dinner table in the evening, and to
the critical city servants that ran his bachelor establishment. And just
then his ear caught anew the broad provincial twist on her tongue. He
had never noticed it so broad, so decided, before. And she was talking
the small countryside talk, chickens and an epidemic among them. And
that grated strangely. It certainly wouldn't do to have her come there.

Then the tide began to rise gently on the beach of his heart. He
thought, "She's my _mother_. And if mother wants to come here, here she
comes." And he straightened up in his chair, as he gave a gentler touch
to a blazing lump of coal. Then the tide ebbed. It began running out
again. "No, it would hardly do." And he poked and thought. Finally he
broke into her run of talk.

"Mother, you know it is not very healthful here. We have bad fogs in
London. And you're used to the wholesome country air. It wouldn't agree
with you here, I'm afraid. I'll get a little cottage on the edge of
town, and I'll come and see you very often."

And the dear old woman _sensed_ at once just what he was thinking. She
was not stupid, if she was just a plain homely body. He got his brains
from his simple country mother, as many a man of note has done. But she
spoke not of what she felt. She simply said, with that quietness which
grows out of strong self-control:

"It's a bit late the night, Laddie, I'm thinking, to be talking about
new plans."

And he said softly, "Forgive me, mother: it is late, I forgot." And he
showed her to her sleeping apartment.

"And where do you sleep, Laddie?"

"Right here, mother, this first door on the left. Be sure to call me if
you need anything."

And he bade her a tender "good-night," and went back to his study to do
some more thinking and planning. And very late he came up to his
sleeping-chamber. And he was just cuddling his head into the soft pillow
for the night, when the door opened, so softly, and in there came a
little body in simple white night garb, with a quaint old-fashioned
nightcap on, candle in hand. She came in very softly. And he started up.

"Mother, are you ill? What's the matter?"

And she came over very quietly, and put down the candle on the table
before she answered. And then softly:

"No, no, Laddie, I'm not ill. I just came to tuck you in for the night
as I used to do at home. ... Lie still, my L