"Yes," she said; "he's very, very good, Johnny, and"—she paused, then said, breathlessly, "you must do whatever he wants you to do."
The young man looked faintly interested. "What's she up to now?" he asked himself; then began to talk to his father. But remembering his aunt Lydia's parting injunction, "Now, Johnny, be nice to Mrs. Robertson," he was careful to speak to his mother once in a while. Happening to catch the twinkle of her rings, he tried to be especially "nice."
"When I get rich I'm going to buy Aunty a diamond ring like yours, Mrs. Robertson."
"I'll give you one of mine, if you'll wear it," she said, eagerly.
Johnny's guffaw of laughter ended in a droll look at his father, who said:
"My dear Mary! This cub, and a diamond ring?"
She was too absorbed in loving her child to be hurt by his bad manners, and, besides, at that moment Doctor Lavendar arrived, and she ran out into the hall to welcome him; as she took his hand she whispered:
"Doctor Lavendar, you will help me with Johnny? I am going to tell him. I'm going to tell him to-night!—and I depend on you to make him come to us."
The old man's face grew very grave; he looked closely at Mary, standing there, clasping and unclasping her hands, but he did not answer her. Later, when they went out to the dining room, he was still silent, just watching Mary and listening to Johnny,—who laughed and talked (and was "nice" to his mother), and ate enormously, and who looked, sitting there at his grandfather's old table, as much like the new Mr. Smith as twenty-three can look like seventy-eight.
"Well," the young fellow said, friendly and confidential to the company at large, "what do you suppose? It's settled—my 'career'!"