“Why, mother, she must be thirty years old.  What did you say to her?”

“I reminded her that she had four little children and the world could get along without water-color sketches and amateur music, but that it could not possibly get along without wives and mothers.”

“You might have also told her, mother, that if the Progressive Club would read history, they might find out that those times in any nation when wives were ornaments and not mothers were always periods of national decadence and moral failures.”

“Well, John, you won’t get women to search history for results that wouldn’t please them; and to expect a certain kind of frivolous, selfish woman to look beyond her own pleasure is to expect the great miracle that will never come.  You can’t expect it.”

“But Jane is neither frivolous nor selfish.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

“Is that all you can say, mother?”

“All.  Every word.  Between you and her I will not stand.  I have given her my mind.  It is all I have to give her at present.  I want to hear something about Harry.  Whatever is he coming to Yoden for?  Yoden will take a goodish bit of money to run it and if he hasn’t a capable wife, he had better move out as soon as he moves in.”

Then John told her the whole truth about Harry’s position—­his weariness of his profession, his indifference to business, and his temptation to gamble.

“The poor lad!  The poor lad!” she cried.  “He began all wrong.  He has just been seeking his right place all these years.”

“Well, mother, we cannot get over the stile until we come to it.  I think Harry has crossed it now.  And there could not be a better wife and mother than Lucy Hatton.  You will help and advise her, mother?  I am sure you will.”

“I will do what I can, John.  She ought to have called the little girl after me.  I can scarce frame myself to love her under Agnes.  However, it is English enough to stick in my memory and maybe it may find the way to my heart.  As to Harry, he is my boy, and I will stand by him everywhere and in every way I can.  He is sweet and true-hearted, and clever on all sides—­the dangerous ten talents, John!  We ought to pity and help him, for their general heritage is

    “The ears to hear,
    The eyes to see,
    And the hands
      That let all go.”

CHAPTER X

AT HER GATES

    We shape ourselves the joy or tear,
      Of which the coming life is made;
    And fill our future atmosphere
      With sunshine or with shade.

It was just at the edge of the dark when John left his mother.  He had perhaps been strengthened by her counsel, but he had not been comforted.  In Hatton market-place he saw a large gathering of men and women and heard Greenwood in a passionate tone talking to them.  Very soon a voice, almost equally powerful, started what appeared to be a hymn, and John rode closer to the crowd and listened.