“Yes, they are kind,” she assented, with a sigh. “But they are not—they are not from among our friends, Stephen.”
“I thought that one of our reasons for coming West, mother,” answered Stephen.
His mother looked pained.
“Stephen, how can you! We came West in order that you might have more chance for the career to which you are entitled. Our friends in Boston were more than good.”
He left the window and came and stood behind her chair, his hands clasped playfully beneath her chin.
“Have you the exact date about you, mother?”
“What date, Stephen?”
“When I shall leave St. Louis for the United States Senate. And you must not forget that there is a youth limit in our Constitution for senators.”
Then the widow smiled,—a little sadly, perhaps. But still a wonderfully sweet smile. And it made her strong face akin to all that was human and helpful.
“I believe that you have the subject of my first speech in that august assembly. And, by the way, what was it?”