ot say I find him other than what I expected."

"But is he kind to you?"

"I said he was not unkind."

Mrs. Verstage looked questioningly at her adopted child. "I don't
know," she said, with quivering lips. "I suppose I was right. I
acted for the best. God knows I sought your happiness. Do not
tell me that you are unhappy."

"Who is happy?" asked Mehetabel, and turned her eyes on the
hostess, to read alarm and distress in her face. "Do not trouble
yourself about me, mother. I knew what I was doing when I took
Jonas. I had no expectation of finding the Punch-Bowl to be
Paradise. It takes a girl some time to get settled into fresh
quarters, and to feel comfortable among strangers. That is mainly
my case. I was perhaps spoiled when here, you were so kind to me.
I thank you, mother, that you have not forgotten me in your great
joy at getting Iver home again."

"There was Thomasine French bought two penn'orth o' shrimps, and
as her husband weren't at home thought to enjoy herself prodigious.
But she came out red as a biled lobster. With the best intentions
things don't always turn out as expected," said Mrs. Verstage,
"and the irritation was like sting nettles and--wuss." Then, after
a pause, "I don't know how it is, all my life I have wished to
have Iver by me. He went away because he wanted to be a painter;
he has come back, after many years, and is not all I desire. Now
he is goyn away. I could endure that if I were sure he loved me.
But I don't think he does. He cares more for his father, who sent
him packin' than he does for me, who never crossed him. I don't
understand him. He is not the same as he was."

"Iver is a child no longer," said Mehetabel. "You must not expect
of him more than he can give. What you said to me about a husband
is true also of a child. Of course, he loves you, but he does not
show it as fully as you desire. He has something else now to fill
his heart beside a mother."

"What is that?" asked Mrs. Verstage, nervously.

"His art," answered Mehetabel.

"Oh, that!" The landlady was not wholly satisfied, she stood up
and said with a sigh, "I fancy life be much like one o' them bran
pies at a bazaar. Some pulls out a pair of braces as don't wear
trousers, and others pull out garters as wears nuthin' but socks.
'Tis a chance if you get wot's worth havin. Well, I must go look
out another sheet in place of that Polly has burnt."

"Let me do that, mother."

"No, as you may remember, I have