“Mother!”

The woman dropped her weapon and burst into tears, sobbing aloud,—­

“You never said it that way before.”

Tom was so astonished by what he saw and heard that he shuffled up to his mother and awkwardly placed his clumsy hand upon her cheek.  In an instant his mother’s arms were around his neck so tight that Tom feared he was being strangled.

“Oh, Tom, Tom! what’s got into me?  What’s got into both of us?  Ev’rythin’s diff’rent to what it used to be.  It’s carryin’ me right off my feet sometimes.  I don’t know how to stand it all, an’ yet I wouldn’t have it no other way for nothin’.”

Tom could not explain, but he did something a great deal better; for the first time since he ceased being a baby and his mother began to tire of him, he acted affectionately to the woman who was leaning upon him.  He put his strong arm around her, and repeated the single word “Mother” often and earnestly.  As for Mrs. Kimper, no further explanation seemed necessary.

After mother and son had become entirely in accord, through methods which only Heaven and mothers understand, Mrs. Kimper began to make preparations for the family’s mid-day meal.  While she worked, her daughter Jane appeared, and threw cold water upon a warm affectional glow by announcing,—­

“I’m fired.”

“What do you mean, child?” asked her mother.

“Just what I say.  That young Ray Bartram, that’s the Prency gal’s feller, has been comin’ to the house almost ev’ry day while I’ve been workin’ there, an’ he’s been awful polite to me.  He never used to be that way when him an’ the other young fellers in town used to come down to the hotel an’ drink in the big room behind the saloon.  Miss Prency got to askin’ me questions about him this morning, an’ the less I told her the madder she got, an’ at last she said somethin’ that made me get up an’ leave.”

“What’s he ever had to do with you?” asked Mrs. Kimper, after a long, wondering stare.

“Nothin’, except to talk impudent.  Mother, what’s the reason a poor gal that don’t ever look for any company above her always keeps findin’ it when she don’t want it?”

Mrs. Kimper got the question so mixed with her culinary preparations that she was unable to answer, or to remember that she already had salted the stew which she was preparing for dinner.  As she wondered and worked, her husband came in.

“Wife,” said Sam, “everything seems turning upside down.  Deacon Quickset came into the shop a while ago.  What do you suppose he wanted?  Wanted me to pray for him!  I said I would, and I did; but I was so took aback by it that I had to talk to somebody, so I came home.”

“Why didn’t you go talk to the preacher or Ray Bartram?” asked Mrs. Kimper, after the natural expressions of astonishment had been made.

“Well,” said Sam, “I suppose it was because I wanted to talk to somebody that I was better acquainted with.”