“Mother, what made the pater so hard on me to-night? he cut up as rough as though I had committed some crime.”
“I don’t think he is quite himself to-night,” returned Mrs. Mayne, in her soft, motherly voice. “I fancy he misses you, Dick, and is half jealous of the Challoners for monopolizing you. You are all we have, that’s where it is,” she finished, stroking the sandy head with her plump hand; but Dick jerked away from her with a little impatience.
“I think it rather hard that a fellow is to be bullied for doing nothing at all,” replied Dick, with a touch of sullenness. “When the pater is in this humor it is no use saying anything to him; but you may as well tell him, mother, that I mean to choose my wife for myself.”
“Oh, my dear, I dare not tell him anything of the kind,” returned Mrs. Mayne, in an alarmed voice; and then, as she glanced at her son, her terror merged into amusement. There was something so absurdly boyish in Dick’s appearance, such a ludicrous contrast between the manliness of his speech and his smooth cheek; the little fringe of hirsute ornament, of which Dick was so proud, was hardly visible in the dim light; his youthful figure, more clumsy than graceful, had an unfledged air about it, nevertheless, the boldness of his words took away her breath. 27
“Every man has a right to his own choice in such a matter,” continued Dick, loftily. “You may as well tell him, mother, that I intend to select my own wife.”
“My dear, I dare not for worlds––” she began; and then she stopped, and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Why do you say this to me? there is plenty of time,” she went on hastily; “that is what your father says, and I think he is right. You are too young for this sort of thing yet. You must see the world; you must look about you; you must have plenty of choice,” continued the anxious mother. “I shall be hard to please, Dick, for I shall think no one good enough for my boy; that is the worst of having only one, and he the best son that ever lived,” finished Mrs. Mayne, with maternal pride in her voice.
Dick took this effusion very coolly. He was quite used to all this sort of worship; he did not think badly of himself; he was not particularly humble-minded or given to troublesome introspection; on the whole, he thought himself a good fellow, and was not at all surprised that people appreciated him.
“There are such a lot of cads in the world, one is always glad to fall in with a different sort,” he would say to himself. He was quite of his mother’s opinion, that an honest, God-fearing young fellow, who spoke the truth and shamed the devil, who had no special vices but a dislike for early rising, who had tolerable brains, and more than his share of muscle, who was in the Oxford eleven, and who had earned his blue ribbon,—that such a one might be considered to set an example to his generation.
When his mother told him she would be hard to please, Dick looked a little wicked, and thought of Nan; but the name was not mentioned between them. Nevertheless, Mrs. Mayne felt with unerring maternal instinct that, in spite of his youth, Dick’s choice was made, and sighed to herself at the thought of the evil days that were to come.
Poor woman, she was to have little peace that night! Hardly had Dick finished his grumble and sauntered away, before her husband’s step was heard in his dressing-room.