“I hope,” said his mother, gravely, “you’ve been lookin’ after your end at Boston, too.”

“Well, not as well as you have here, mother,” said Jeff, candidly.  “Has Cynthy told you?”

“I guess she expected you to tell me, if there was anything.”

“There’s a lot; but I guess I needn’t go over it all.  I’ve been playing the devil.”

“Jeff!”

“Yes, I have.  I’ve been going with another girl down there, one the kind you wanted me to make up to, and I went so far I—­well, I made love to her; and then I thought it over, and found out I didn’t really care for her, and I had to tell her so, and then I came up to tell Cynthy.  That’s about the size of it.  What do you think of it?”

“D’ you tell Cynthy?”

“Yes, I told her.”

“What ’d she say?”

“She said I’d better go back to the other girl.”  Jeff laughed hardily, but his mother remained impassive.

“I guess she’s right; I guess you had.”

“That seems to be the general opinion.  That’s what Mr. Westover advised.  I seem to be the only one against it.  I suppose you mean that I’m not fit for Cynthy.  I don’t deny it.  All I say is I want her, and I don’t want the other one.  What are you going to do in a case like that?”

“The way I should look at it,” said his mother, “is this:  whatever you are, Cynthy made you.  You was a lazy, disobedient, worthless boy, and it was her carin’ for you from the first that put any spirit and any principle into you.  It was her that helped you at school when you was little things together; and she helped you at the academy, and she’s helped you at college.  I’ll bet she could take a degree, or whatever it is, at Harvard better than you could now; and if you ever do take a degree, you’ve got her to thank for it.”

“That’s so,” said Jeff.  “And what’s the reason you didn’t want me to marry her when I came in here last summer and told you I’d asked her to?”

“You know well enough what the reason was.  It was part of the same thing as my wantin’ you to be a lawyer; but I might knowed that if you didn’t have Cynthy to go into court with you, and put the words into your mouth, you wouldn’t make a speech that would”—­Mrs. Durgin paused for a fitting figure—­“save a flea from the gallows.”

Jeff burst into a laugh.  “Well, I guess that’s so, mother.  And now you want me to throw away the only chance I’ve got of learning how to run Lion’s Head in the right way by breaking with Cynthy.”

“Nobody wants you to run Lion’s Head for a while yet,” his mother returned, scornfully.  “Jackson is going to run Lion’s Head.  He’ll be home the end of June, and I’ll run Lion’s Head till he gets here.  You talk,” she went on, “as if it was in your hands to break with Cynthy, or throw away the chance with her.  The way I look at it, she’s broke with you, and you ha’n’t got any chance with her.  Oh, Jeff,” she suddenly appealed to him, “tell me all about it!  What have you been up to?  If I understood it once, I know I can make her see it in the right light.”