They did not listen to him.
"You mean," John said, "that you won't let it be known that you are—my mother?"
"No, never! never! It couldn't be known—I promise you."
"Thank you," said John Smith, sardonically,—and Doctor Lavendar held up protesting hands. But no one looked at him.
"It would only be supposed," Carl said, "that, being childless people, we would make you our son. Nothing, as your mother says, would need be known."
"How could you 'make me your son' and not have it known?"
"I mean by law," his father explained.
"There was a 'law' that made me your son twenty-three years ago. That's the only law that counts. You broke it when I was born. Can I be born again?"
"You deserted me," Johnny said, "and Aunt Lydia took me. Shall I be like you, and desert her? Little Aunt Lydia!" He gave a furious sob. "I'm not your sort!" he said. The words were like a blow in Mary's face.