"What brings you back so soon?" she asked, immediately suspecting trouble and anxiously scrutinizing the boy, to see if he were injured.
"The girls decided to spend the night with Grace."
"I'm so glad you weren't obliged to take that long walk back alone. I entirely forgot, until you were gone, that this was hazing night—or I should have asked Sandow and Buttons to go out with you and Margie."
From the expression on the face and the look in the eyes of the mother he loved so dearly, Fred realized that she would add to her already heavy burden, worry over him, every time he escorted Margie to her home.
"Now, Momsy, you must quit worrying about me right now," he said, affectionately putting his arm around her waist. "I'm old enough and big enough and strong enough to take care of myself. You know, I like Marg, and I like to walk home with her. But if you are going to be nervous every time I do, I'll have to stop going with her—and I don't want to."
"But I can't help being anxious about you, Fred. With your father away, you are all I have. If anything should happen to you, I think it would drive me crazy."
Never before had the boy realized the depth of the love his mother bore him, and at its revelation he was sorely perplexed. Well he knew that his rival would never cease his attempts to waylay him. Of the outcome, should Bart make the trial alone, he had no misgivings, but he knew the bully's nature too well, to think he would essay the deed single handed. And in the light of his mother's remark, about the effect any injury to him would have upon her, he was sorely perplexed.
"Oh, Momsy, you don't mean that," he exclaimed. "Any boy is liable to get hurt. Please say you don't mean it—and promise me not to worry."
"I'll try not to," agreed the lad's mother, evading an answer to his first entreaty, and adding, hastily, "now, run to bed. I've locked up the house, so everything is all right."
Glad of the opportunity to be alone, Fred kissed his mother and went to his room.