“How long have you known?” my mother asked.
“Oh, about six months. I felt it at the beginning of the year, but I didn't say anything to Washburn till a month later. I thought it might be only fancy.”
“And he is sure?”
My father nodded.
“But why have you never told me?”
“Because,” replied my father, with a laugh, “I didn't want you to know. If I could have done without you, I should not have told you now.”
And at this there came a light into my mother's face that never altogether left it until the end.
She drew him down beside her on the seat. I had come nearer; and my father, stretching out his hand, would have had me with them. But my mother, putting her arms about him, held him close to her, as though in that moment she would have had him to herself alone.