His answer came promptly. The man returned with the kit bag only, and word that his mother was bringing the food down herself, and he smiled at the futility of his attempt to put her off.
Ten minutes later she entered his office with her burden of provisions. Her face was calmly smiling. There was no trace of anxiety in it. So carefully was the latter suppressed that the effort it entailed became apparent to the man.
"You shouldn't have bothered, ma," he protested. "I sent the man up specially to bring those things down."
His mother's eyes had a shrewd look in them.
"I know," she said. "There's a ham and some bacon, biscuit, and a fresh roast of beef here. Then I've put in a good supply of groceries."
"Thanks, dear," he said gently. "You always take care of my inner man. But I wish you hadn't bothered this way."
"It's no sort of trouble," she said, raising her eyes to his. Then she let them drop again. "Food don't need a lumberman's rough handling."
The smile on Dave's face was good to see. He nodded.
"I'd better tell you," he said. "You know, we've—stopped?"
His eyes lingered fondly on the aged figure. This woman was very precious to him.