“Not the young ones,” said Ross.  “Especially not those that have choice of many men.”

“But no woman has choice of many men,” replied she.  “She wants the best, and when you’re in her horizon, you’re the best, always.”

Ross, being in the privacy of his own family, gave himself the pleasure of showing that he rather thought so himself.  But he said:  “Nonsense.  If I listened to your partiality, I’d be making a fearful ass of myself most of the time.”

“Well—­don’t let Adelaide see that you’re eager,” persisted his mother subtly.  “She’s very good-looking and knows it and I’m afraid she’s getting an exaggerated notion of her own value.  She feels so certain of you.”

“Of course she does,” said Ross, and his mother saw that he was unmoved by her adroit thrust at his vanity.

“It isn’t in human nature to value what one feels sure of.”

“But she is sure of me,” said Ross, and while he spoke with emphasis, neither his tone nor his look was quite sincere.  “We’re engaged, you know.”

“A boy and girl affair.  But nothing really settled.”

“I’ve given my word and so has she.”

Mrs. Whitney had difficulty in not looking as disapproving as she felt.  A high sense of honor had been part of her wordy training of her children; but she had relied—­she hoped, not in vain—­upon their common sense to teach them to reconcile and adjust honor to the exigencies of practical life.  “That’s right, dear,” said she.  “A man or a woman can’t be too honorable.  Still, I should not wish you to make her and yourself unhappy.  And I know both of you would be unhappy if, by marrying, you were to spoil each other’s careers.  And your father would not be able to allow or to leave you enough to maintain an establishment such as I’ve set my heart on seeing you have.  Mr. Ranger has been acting very strange of late—­almost insane, I’d say.”  Her tone became constrained as if she were trying to convey more than she dared put into words.  “I feel even surer than when I wrote you, that he’s leaving a large part of his fortune to Tecumseh College.”  And she related—­with judicious omissions and embroideries—­her last talk with Hiram, and the events that centered about it.

Ross retained the impassive expression he had been cultivating ever since he read in English “high life” novels descriptions of the bearing of men of the “haut monde.”  “That’s of no consequence,” was his comment, in a tone of indifference.  “I’m not marrying Del for her money.”

“Don’t throw yourself away, Ross,” said she, much disquieted.  “I feel sure you’ve been brought up too sensibly to do anything reckless.  At least, be careful how you commit yourself until you are sure.  In our station people have to think of a great many things before they think of anything so uncertain and so more or less fanciful as love.  Rest assured, Adelaide is thinking of those things.  Don’t be less wise than she.”