MY MOTHER EXPRESSES HER FEARS CONCERNING JESSIE.
One evening, as I was smartening myself up in my room, preparatory to going to the Wests', my mother entered, and said, almost humbly,
'My dear, can you spare me a few minutes?'
'Certainly,'I replied. 'Jessie is at the Wests', isn't she?'
'Yes, my dear. I'll not keep you long. I want to speak to you about her.'
'Go on, mother,' I said, in a tone of satisfaction, for that was the subject I loved best to converse upon.
'How you have grown, my darling! You are the image of your father, who was a fine handsome man. How proud I am of my son!'
I looked in the glass, without any feeling of vanity. I always took pains with my appearance when I was about to present myself to Jessie, but I had no high opinion of myself, and I was never quite satisfied with the result.
'You do your best to spoil me, mother,' I said, submitting myself to my mother, whose fond fingers were about my neck. 'Go on, about Jessie.'
'You are in her confidence, my dear?'