than usual?"

"I noticed."

"They are coming into their own. I can't help feeling that our
ventures are coming out well. It will be something to have helped them
a little. There are compensations, you see--" He caught himself
abruptly.

"Compensations for what?"

"Oh, for all the things," Jonathan said vaguely, "that one would like
to do and can not."

"Even for giving your life to the care of a helpless, uninteresting old
woman?"

"Hush, mother!" He reached her in a twinkling and patted the fine
silver of her hair. "You know better than that."

"I know what you have given up for me. It is only lately that I have
begun to understand. Oh, Jonathan--"

"But think what I've gained by staying with you! There have never been
any regrets."

"You have been a good son." But her smile was very faint. "Do you
like David Quentin as well as ever?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"There are no 'whys' in friendship, mother."

"Does he return your friendship in equal degree, do you think?"

His answer was without hesitation. "No."

She was silent.

"That is not to be expected, of course," he said simply. "I think he
would if he could. But such matters are not to be forced."

She lifted her face and the poor lifeless eyes seemed to be straining
to see him. "I am just beginning to know my son. Ah! if I could see
you--only once! I would ask nothing more."

Her hands reached toward his face. But he caught them and held them
gently.

"Why do you never let me touch your face?"

He mustered a laugh. "I'm afraid you would be disappointed. You know,
your hands have seen David, and--"

"Ah!" she breathed. "Always your David! Jonathan--" She paused
sharply.

"Yes?"

"Jonathan, there is a Mrs. David Quentin, is there not?"

"Yes."

"Where is she now?"

"Visiting relatives, I believe."

"It is a strangely long visit, don't you think? In my time husbands
and wives lived together."

"It is an arrangement for the sake of economy, Mrs. Blaisdell tells me.
It seems David had got into debt."

"I should think," she said slowly, "Mrs. Quentin would find it
economical to return."

"Mother!" Jonathan started. "Just what do you mean?"

"Her husband and you find Miss Summers quite agreeable, do you not?"

"Mother," he reproved her gently, "you should not even hint such a
thing. David is a man of honor."

"Say he is a man--and stop there. A presentable young man whom people
seem to like and whose wif