“Oh no; she'd be in your way. She'd put you out.”
“I hope not, not so soon,” Mrs. Dyckman laughed, dismally. “She'll probably not like us at all, but we can start her off right.”
“That's mighty white of you, mother.”
“Did you expect me to be—yellow?”
“No, but I thought you might be a little—blue.”
“If she'll make you happy I'll thank Heaven for her every day and night of my life. So let's give her every chance we can, and I hope she'll give us a chance.”
Jim's arms were long enough to encircle her and hug her tight. He whispered to her, “I never needed you more, you God-blessed—mother!”
Her tears streamed down her cheeks upon his lips, and he had a little taste of the bitterness of maternal love. She felt better after she had cried a little, and she said, with courage:
“Now we mustn't keep you away from her. If you want me to, I'll go along with you and call on her and extend a formal invitation.”
Jim could not permit his revered mother to make so complete a submission as that. He shook his head: