Part 24 (1/2)

Mrs. Barry's nonchalance deserted her with a rush. Her face became crimson.

”How--how criminal!” she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

”That's what she said,” returned Ben. ”She asked if I hadn't a mother. I told her I had a glorious one; and she just looked at me and said: 'And you would do that to her just because I have nice eyes.'”

Mrs. Barry bit her lip and did not love the waif the more that she had been able to defend her.

”What is the use of being a mother!” she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. ”What is the use of expending your whole heart's love on a boy for his lifetime, when he will desert you at the first temptation!”

”Well, she wouldn't let me, dear,” said Ben more gently, flus.h.i.+ng and feeling his first qualm. ”I would stake my life that she is as beautiful within as without and that you would have a treasure as well as I. It wasn't deserting you. I was thinking of you. I felt she was worthy of you and no one else is.”

”This is raving, Ben,” said his mother, quiet again. ”He has escaped,”

she thought, ”and now nothing will come of it.” She raised her drooping head and again regarded him deprecatingly. ”Let us talk of something else,” she added.

”No,” he returned firmly; ”not until you understand that I am entirely in earnest. You had your love-affair, now I am having mine, and I am going through with it, openly and in the sight of all men. I urged her a second time to marry me this afternoon, and she looked at me soberly with those glorious eyes and her only answer was: 'I want your mother to love me.'” Ben looked off reminiscently. ”It encouraged me to hope that she cares for me a little that your coldness bowled her over so completely.”

Mrs. Barry looked at him helplessly, and this time when she put up her napkin she touched a corner of her eye.

”We stopped at the landing-field at Townley and had our talk,” he went on.

”And she seemed refined?” Mrs. Barry's voice was a little uncertain.

”Exquisite!” he exclaimed.

”You have standards, Ben,” she said. ”You couldn't be totally fooled by beauty.”

He smiled upon her for the first time and a very warming light shone in his eyes. ”The best,” he replied, leaning toward her. ”You.”

She drew a long, quavering breath; but she scorned weeping women.

Ben watched her repressed emotion.

”Now you examine, Mother,” he said gently. ”Take your New England magnifying-gla.s.s along, and when she will see you, put her to the test.”

”When she will see me? What do you mean?” asked Mrs. Barry quickly.

”Well”--Ben shrugged his shoulders--”we'll see. How much she was hurt, how long it will last, I don't know, of course. You can try.”

”_Try!_” repeated the queen of Keefe, her handsome face coloring faintly above her white silken gown.

”Yes. Miss Upton will be a good go-between, when she is placated. You saw the partisan in her.”

Of course, it was all very absurd, as Mrs. Barry told herself when they arose from the table; but there was no denying that her throne was tottering. Her boy was no longer all hers. Bitter, bitter discovery for most mothers to make even when the rival is not Miss n.o.body from Nowhere.

The next morning betimes Ben presented himself at the Emporium. He drove up in his roadster and rushed in upon Miss Upton with an arm full of apple blossoms.

”How is she?” he inquired eagerly.

”Hush, hus.h.!.+ I think she's goin' to sleep again. She's had her breakfast.”

”Mother sent her these,” he went on, laying the fragrant ma.s.s on the counter behind which Miss Mehitable was piling up goods for packing.