"There -- Governor can do anything!"

There were several cakes to take the benefit of the fire, one
after the other, and then to be split and buttered, and then
to be eaten; and cakes of Winthrop's baking and mamma's
buttering, the children pronounced "as good as could be."
Nothing could have better broken up the gloom of their little
tea party than Winthrop's hoe-cakes; and then the tea was so
good, for nobody had eaten much dinner.

The children were in excellent spirits, and Winthrop kept them
in play; and the conversation went on between the three for a
large part of the evening. When the little ones were gone to
bed, then indeed it flagged; Winthrop and his mother sat
awhile silently musing, and then the former bade her good
night.

It was long before Mrs. Landholm thought of going to bed, or
thought of anything around her; the fire was dead and her
candle burnt out, when at length she roused herself. The cold
wind made itself felt through many a crevice in the wooden
frame house; and feeling too much of its work upon her, she
went into the kitchen to see if there were not some warmth
still lingering about the covered-up fire. To her surprise,
the fire was not covered up; a glow came from it yet; and
Winthrop sat there on the hearth, with his head leaning
against the jamb and his eyes intently studying the coals. He
started, and jumped up.

"Winthrop! --what are you here for, my dear?"

"I came out to warm myself."

"Haven't you been to bed?"

"No ma'am."

"Where have you been?"

"Only in my room, mother."

"Doing what, my son?"

"Thinking --" he said a little unwillingly.

"Sit down and warm yourself," said his mother placing his
chair again; -- "Why, your hands are warm now?"

"Yes ma'am -- I have been here a good while."

He sat down, where she had put his chair in front of the
fireplace; and she stood warming herself before it, and
looking at him. His face was in its usual calmness, and she
thought as she looked it was an excellent face. Great strength
of character -- great truth -- beneath the broad brow high
intellectual capacity, and about the mouth a certain sweet
self-possession; to the ordinary observer more cool than
sweet, but his mother knew the sweetness.

"What are you thinking about, Winthrop?" she said softly,
bending down near enough to lay a loving hand on his brow.

He looked up quickly and smiled, one of those smiles which his
mother saw oftener than anybody, but she n