"Pshaw!" said Romney, striding up and down faster than ever, crowding his hands deep into the pockets of his jerkin. "Is there any calendar of love with directions, 'On such a day a man may take a liking, after so many days he may admire, at the end of a month, or three, or six, he may give rein to his fancy, and when a year is out he may love,—that is, if his mother gives consent'?"
The lad was growing angry, and therefore letting down his guard. Trust a woman for seeing the advantage and using it! Elizabeth poked her little red boots out to the fire and looked at them as if they interested her more than anything in the world. Then as though the question were the most natural and casual one she asked,—
"When are you to marry?"
It was at once the cruellest and the kindest thing she could have said. A huge sob rose in the boy's throat and choked him. Then he threw himself on his knees and buried his head in his mother's lap, crying,—
"Don't! Don't! She does not love me!"
"Ask her!"
"I have asked her."
Let those who can, explain the workings of a woman's mind. Perhaps they can tell why Elizabeth Huntoon, who five minutes before had set her face like a flint against this love affair, of a sudden whiffed about like a weather-cock and was set for it as if she had planned it herself from the beginning. All she said was,—
"Then why did she ask thy help?"