Part 49 (1/2)

”What does thee think of that, mother?”

”I think Emily converted thee over to her side before she had been here two days.”

”Thee's winked very hard at my apostasy, mother. I'm inclined to think thee was converted too, on the third or fourth day, if thee'd own up.”

”No,” said Mrs. Yocomb, with a smile at her favorite, ”Emily won my heart on the first day, and I accepted piano and all.”

”Why, Mrs. Yocomb!” I exclaimed--for I could not forego the chance to vindicate myself--”I never considered you a precipitate, ill-balanced person.”

Miss Warren's cheeks were scarlet, and I saw that she understood me well. I think Mrs. Yocomb guessed my meaning, too, for her smile was a little peculiar as she remarked demurely, ”Women are different from men: they know almost immediately whether they like a person or not. I liked thee in half a day.”

”You like sinners on principle, Mrs. Yocomb. I think it was my general depravity and heathenism that won your regard.”

”No, as a woman I liked thee. Thee isn't as bad as thee seems.”

”Mr. Yocomb, I hope you don't object to this, for I must a.s.sure you most emphatically that I don't.”

”Mother's welcome to love thee all she pleases,” said the old gentleman, laughing. ”Indeed, I think I egg her on to it.”

”Good friends,” said Miss Warren, with her old mirthful look, ”you'll turn Mr. Morton's head; you should be more considerate.”

”I am indeed bewildered. Miss Warren's keen eyes have detected my weak point.”

”A man with so stout a heart,” Mr. Hearn began, ”could well afford--”

and then he hesitated.

”To be weak-headed,” I said, finis.h.i.+ng his sentence. ”I fear you are mistaken, sir. I can't afford it at all.”

”Thee was clear-headed enough to get around mother in half an hour,”

said the old gentleman again, laughing heartily. ”It took me several months.”

”Thee was a little blind, father. I wasn't going to let thee see how much I thought of thee till I had kept thee waiting a proper time.”

”That's rich!” I cried, and I laughed as I had not since my illness.

”How long is a proper time, Mrs. Yocomb? I remember being once told that a woman was a mystery that a man could never solve. I fear it's true.”

”Who told you that?” asked Mr. Hearn; for I think he noticed my swift glance at Miss Warren, who looked a little conscious.

”As I think of it, I may have read it in a newspaper,” I said demurely.

”I'm not flattered by your poor memory, Mr. Morton,” remarked Miss Warren quietly. ”I told you that myself when you were so mystified by my fearlessness of Dapple and my fear of the cow.”

”I've learned that my memory is sadly treacherous, Miss Warren.”

”A man who is treacherous only in memory may well be taken as a model,”

remarked Mr. Hearn benignly.

”Would you say that of one who forgot to pay you his debts?”