“You might have been ‘in love.’ But you never LOVED any woman until you met my mother. I know that, father. And it didn’t happen till you were pretty well on in life either.”
“You’re too hard to please. That’s what’s the matter, that’s what’s the matter!”
“Perhaps I am. When a man has had a mother like mine his standard of womanly sweetness is apt to be pitched pretty high. Let’s drop the subject, father. Here, I want you to read this letter—it’s from Larry.”
“Humph!” grunted Mr. Marshall, when he had finished with it. “So Larry’s knocked out at last—always thought he would be—always expected it. Sorry, too. He was a decent fellow. Well, are you going?”
“Yes, I think so, if you don’t object.”
“You’ll have a pretty monotonous time of it, judging from his account of Lindsay.”
“Probably. But I am not going over in search of excitement. I’m going to oblige Larry and have a look at the Island.”
“Well, it’s worth looking at, some parts of the year,” conceded Mr. Marshall. “When I’m on Prince Edward Island in the summer I always understand an old Scotch Islander I met once in Winnipeg. He was always talking of ‘the Island.’ Somebody once asked him, ‘What island do you mean?’ He simply LOOKED at that ignorant man. Then he said, ‘Why, Prince Edward Island, mon. WHAT OTHER ISLAND IS THERE?’ Go if you’d like to. You need a rest after the grind of examinations before settling down to business. And mind you don’t get into any mischief, young sir.”
“Not much likelihood of that in a place like Lindsay, I fancy,” laughed Eric.
“Probably the devil finds as much mischief for idle hands in Lindsay as anywhere else. The worst tragedy I ever heard of happened on a backwoods farm, fifteen miles from a railroad and five from a store. However, I expect your mother’s son to behave himself in the fear of God and man. In all likelihood the worst thing that will happen to you over there will be that some misguided woman will put you to sleep in a spare room bed. And if that does happen may the Lord have mercy on your soul!”