“Only one other thing.  We were both immensely disappointed when you wouldn’t take the scout-mastership they offered you.  Father believes tremendously in the movement.  He thinks it is going to be the making of the next generation of men.  He would have liked you to be a Scoutmaster and when you wouldn’t he went on the Scout Troop Committee himself though he really could not spare the time.”

“I see,” said Phil.  “I guess I’ve been pretty blind.  Funny part of it is I really wanted to take the Scoutmaster job but I thought Dad would think it took too much of my time.  Anything more?” he asked.

“Not a thing.  Haven’t you had quite enough of a lecture for once?” his mother smiled back.

“I reckon I needed it.  Thank you, Mums.  I’ll turn over a new leaf if it isn’t too late.  I’ll go to the dance and I’ll ask them if there is still a place for me on the library committee and I’ll start a troop of Scouts myself—­another bunch I’ve had my eyes on for some time.”

“That will please Dad very much.  It pleases me too.  Boys are very dear to my heart.  I wonder if you can guess why, Philip, my son?”

“I wish I’d been a better son, Mums.  Some chaps never seem to cause their-mothers any worry or heart ache.  I wasn’t that kind.  I am afraid I am not even yet.”

“No son is, dear, unless there is something wrong with him or the mother.  Mothering means heart ache and worries, plus joy and pride and the joy and pride more than makes up for the rest.  It has for me a hundred times over even when I had a rather bad little boy on my hands and now I have a man—­a man I am glad and proud to call my son.”

CHAPTER XVII

A WEDDING RING IT WAS HARD TO REMEMBER

It was a grilling hot August afternoon.  The young Holidays were keeping cool as best they could out in the yard.  Ruth lay in the canopied hammock against a background of a hedge of sweet peas, pink and white and lavender, looking rather like a dainty, frail little flower herself.  Tony in cool white was seated on a scarlet Navajo blanket, leaning against the apple tree.  Around her was a litter of magazines and an open box of bonbons.  Ted was stretched at his ease on the grass, gazing skyward, a cigarette in his lips, enjoying well-earned rest after toil.  Larry occupied the green garden bench in the lee, of the hammock.  He was unsolaced either by candy or smoke and looked tired and not particularly happy.  There were dark shadows under his gray eyes which betrayed that he was not getting the quota of sleep that healthy youth demands.  His eyes were downcast now, apparently absorbed in contemplation of a belated dandelion at his feet.

“Ruth, why don’t you come down to the dance with us tonight?” demanded Tony suddenly dropping her magazine.  “You are well enough now and I know you would enjoy it.  It is lovely down on the island where the pavilion is—­all quiet and pine-woodsy.  You needn’t dance if you don’t want to.  You could just lie in the hammock and listen to the music and the water.  We’d come and talk to you between dances so you wouldn’t be lonesome.  Do come.”