“It is very important,” said Jim.
Mrs. Patterson did not laugh; she did not even smile. She sat down beside Jim's bed and looked seriously at his eager, rapt, shamed little boy-face on the pillow. “Well?” said she, after a minute which seemed difficult to him.
Jim coughed. Then he spoke with a blurt. “Mother,” said Jim, “by and by, of course not quite yet, but by and by, will you have any objection to Miss Lucy Rose as a daughter?”
Even then Sally Patterson did not laugh or even smile. “Are you thinking of marrying her, Jim?” asked she, quite as if her son had been a man.
“Yes, mother,” replied Jim. Then he flung up his little arms in pink pajama sleeves, and Sally Patterson took his face between her two hands and kissed him warmly.
“She is a darling, and your choice does you credit, Jim,” said she. “Of course you have said nothing to her yet?”
“I thought it was rather too soon.”
“I really think you are very wise, Jim,” said his mother. “It is too soon to put such ideas into the poor child's head. She is younger than you, isn't she, Jim?”
“She is just six months and three days younger,” replied Jim, with majesty.
“I thought so. Well, you know, Jim, it would just wear her all out, as young as that, to be obliged to think about her trousseau and housekeeping and going to school, too.”