"What, that time I asked you if God had a beard like old Peverell?"
She tried to laugh with him, just as, at the time, she had tried to control her laughter. This was the difference between John, then and now; was it not indeed the difference in all of her life?
"That was the end," said she, "that was the last question you asked. We had said a lot before that. Don't you remember?"
"I was just a kid then," said he. "I suppose I was always asking questions."
"Don't you now?"
"No, not so much, why should I? Mater, you don't expect me always to be a silly little fool, do you?"
The breath was deep she drew.
"You were far from being a silly little fool then, John. Those questions were all wonderful to me, even the last one."
He laid both his hands upon her shoulders and looked far into her eyes.
"You take life so seriously, Mater," he said.