"James came to say good-bye. He complained that he had not had a chance to see me alone since he came home."
"And what should he want to see you alone for?" said Mrs. Scudder, in a dry, disturbed tone.
"Mother,—everybody has things at times which they would like to say to some one person alone," said Mary.
"Well, tell me what he said."
"I will try. In the first place, he said that he always had been free, all his life, to run in and out of our house, and to wait on me like a brother."
"Hum!" said Mrs. Scudder; "but he isn't your brother, for all that."
"Well, then, he wanted to know why you were so cold to him, and why you never let him walk with me from meetings or see me alone, as we often used to. And I told him why,—that we were not children now, and that you thought it was not best; and then I talked with him about religion, and tried to persuade him to attend to the concerns of his soul; and I never felt so much hope for him as I do now."
Aunt Katy looked skeptical, and remarked,—"If he really felt a disposition for religious instruction, Dr. H. could guide him much better than you could."
"Yes,—so I told him, and I tried to persuade him to talk with Dr. H.; but he was very unwilling. He said, I could have more influence over him than anybody else,—that nobody could do him any good but me."
"Yes, yes,—I understand all that," said Aunt Katy,—"I have heard young men say that before, and I know just what it amounts to."