"Only, you know, it may mean putting off our being married for ever so long. I can't tell how long."
"There's no need to tell. Let it be put off. So much the better," declared Jessie. "I'm in no hurry to get married. Why should I be? Girls like a bit of freedom first. And I'm comfortable as I am. As for your mother—if you and me ever do get married, why then she'll be my mother as well as yours, and I shall have a right to work for her too. And if we have a home, that home will be hers as well as yours and mine. So there!"
Jack was not to be at once pulled up out of despondency. "And you're quite sure, Jessie—you don't think—you wouldn't rather give me up and take somebody else?"
"Yes, of course I would! That's just what I should like, most particularly," declared Jessie, with tartness. "Get rid of you and take up with the first man I can find instead! It wouldn't matter who—not one bit! O no, anybody would do. I'm not difficult to please, am I?" Jessie broke into a queer laugh with a sound of tears in it. "O dear, you men are funny! As if that was my way!"
"I don't want you to give me up. I'd wait any time for you. Only, it may be years and years."
"It won't be, though. I'm going to make lots of money, and I shall work all the harder now, thinking about your mother. Why, Jack, don't you know I'm pretty near as fond of her as you are, and I'd like nothing better in all the world than to give her a home and to make her happy. I've never had a mother of my own—anyhow, I can't remember her—and to be always with your mother would be lovely. She's the dearest thing, and she never grumbles. She isn't a scrap like aunt Barbara. The only thing is that you might get jealous. I'm not sure, but I almost think I love her more than I love you; and I don't mind telling you so, either. And as for giving you up,—if you are tired of me, I'll give you up this minute, and I'll say good-bye, and I'll tell you not to cross my path again in a hurry. And if you're not tired of me—why—then—things can go on as they have gone on. And if you can't lay by yet for me, I can lay by for your mother, and we can wait a while longer and make the best of it. So you needn't be a donkey again, Jock—that's all."
Jack's answer to these various "ifs," though wordless, was unmistakable.
He told his mother about his talk with Jessie. Jack had not meant to do so at first, only he was used to telling her everything that touched him closely. He tried not to let her know that the question of her support had played a prominent part; but her womanly penetration was a great deal too much for Jack's duller wits. A few adroit questions drew the whole from him, including Jessie's hot little speeches and loving words about herself. A curious light came into Mrs. Groates' face, and her eyes, which had of late been dimmed with tear-shedding, shone again with almost their old look.
"And you think I'm going to sit with my hands before me, Jack, and you do all the work?"
"Why, no; you'll keep things going in the house, and there 'll be the children to see to. You'll find plenty to do,—no fear!"