One night, after his aunt Golder and Ellen had retired, Jerry was seated in the chimney corner smoking his pipe, and watching the motion of his mother's knitting needles, when the old lady fixed her keen eyes upon his face, and demanded to know what ailed him.
"Ails me, mother!" he replied, with a forced laugh, "why, nothing as I know of; I'm hearty enough." Having said this, he heaved a deep sigh.
"Jerry, look at me. You're in love, I know you are. That puss Ellen has turned your head."
"Nonsense, mother."
"No, it ain't nonsense, that is, your loving a good girl like her; that ain't no nonsense, my boy. Now, all your brothers and sisters are away in Ameriky and Australy, and I shall probably never see none of my children's children if you don't get married soon. It would do my old eyes good to see your little ones."
"All right, mother," ejaculated Jerry with a depreciative wave of his long clay pipe. "All right. Ease your steam, my dear. I ain't married yet, and ain't likely to be."
"Not all the while you keeps a shillyshallying about as you does. You ain't, that's true," somewhat warmly retorted the old lady.
Upon hearing this Thompson got up, and walking to his mother's chair leant over the back, and in a somewhat troubled manner made the following confession:
"My dear old mother, pardon me if I was hasty. My heart is full, and I want you to tell me what to do."