Frank Vaniman’s mother was allowed to visit him once a month at the prison.  She was not present at his trial.  She had respected his earnest wishes in that matter.

When she came to him she smiled—­she did not weep.  When she smiled he wanted to weep.  He realized how much that display of calm courage was costing Martha Vaniman.  He remembered how bravely and steadfastly she had brought that same heroine’s quality to the support of his father when she had taken Frank with her to the prison; they used to walk in through the gloomy portal hand in hand, and, though her face was serene, her throbbing fingers told him what her heart was saying to her.

Her husband had thankfully accepted that little fiction of her fortitude; her son, under like circumstances, did the same.  Between mother and son, as between husband and wife, was the bond of an implicit faith in the innocence of the accused.  Love was not shamed, no matter how the outside world might view the matter.

The prison warden was a fat man, full of sympathy.  He gave the mother and son the privileges of his office, and to those reassuring surroundings the mother brought Frank’s sister on one of the regular visits.

After Mr. Wagg’s guile gave Vaniman his outdoor job, the mother brought Anna each month, for the school vacation season was on.  The sun was bright out there in the yard.  One could look up into the fleecy clouds, over the walls, and forget the bars and the armed guards.

In fact, one day, Anna’s ingenuous forgetfulness of the true situation provoked real merriment for the little party—­Guard Wagg included.  Anna surveyed apprehensively several particularly villainous-looking barrowmen who passed and expressed the devout hope that Frank always saw to it carefully that he locked his bedroom door nights.

Before all the zest of that joke had evaporated, Mrs. Vaniman departed; it was a part of her helpful tact in alleviating the grievous situation in which Frank was placed.  She always came with the best little piece of news she could provide for the meeting; for the parting she reserved a bit of a joke.

Mr. Wagg chuckled for a long time after the visitors went away.  Gradually his face became serious.  “Of course, I have to sit here and listen to what’s said, because that’s my duty.  But, as I have told you before, all family matters simply pass into one ear and out of the other.”

“I’m mighty grateful for the way you have treated us,” said Vaniman.

“The fact that we haven’t done business as yet hasn’t changed me—­never will change me.  That mother of yours is so fine a woman that she deserves every favor that I can grant her, for her own sake.  And, she being so fine a woman, I was sorry to hear what you wormed out of her this day—­that she has gone back to work in the store again.”