“I insist, Robert,” said Mrs. Nixon, “I must insist for once on your being serious. I’m very much pleased with you, and with what you tell me, because— Well, my son, I do not need to remind you that a vulgar person with money is a creature of no interest to me; but Miss Maynard is a lady. I have always granted it; and now she will need advice and directing. Her relatives live in the country, and are too elderly to be available in any case. I should wish her to feel that she might turn to me; and I hope nothing in my behavior on this trip has had a—a tendency to estrange her.”
“Your conduct has been to a stranger,” returned Robert.
Mrs. Nixon lifted her head with a regal air in which there was nevertheless anxiety.
“I suppose for the sake of making a foolish pun you would say that, and make me uncomfortable.”
Her son laughed, and going over to where she sat, put his arms around her unyielding form.
“Don’t worry, mother. You may be a bit cool in your methods, but you arrive, just like a fireless cooker. How long has the heiress known of her good fortune?”
“Just to-day. Just since noon.”
“Noon, eh? Did you see me escorting her at the Riverside show?”
“No,” replied Mrs. Nixon lugubriously. “I was too much engaged in taking care of your Uncle Henry.”
Robert straightened up and threw his head back for a hearty laugh.