She came in with needle and thread and scissors. "If you will take off your coat, I will stitch on that button that is hanging by one thread. I noticed it this morning, and then it went quite out of my mind. I am so sorry!" "Oh, thanks!" he blushed hotly. "But I can stitch myself, you know--" "Come, you needn't be shy of an old woman seeing you in your shirt-sleeves. Do as I ask." He doffed the coat. "I always like young men to be immaculately neat," she said, cutting off a piece of cotton. "One's personal character is an index to one's character, don't you think? Of course you do. Here, thread the needle for me. I am afraid since your dear sister died you have grown a little careless, eh? She was _most_ particular. Ah, what a mother she was to you!" "Yes," said Richard. "I was very grieved to see you go to the funeral in a soft hat--Richard, really I was. It wasn't respectful to your brother-in-law's memory." "I never thought. You see, I started in rather a hurry." The fact was that he had no silk hat, nor could he easily afford to buy one. "But you _should_ think, my dear boy. Even Clayton was shocked. Are those your best clothes?" Richard answered that they were. He sheepishly protested that he never bothered about clothes. There was a silence, broken by her regular stitching. At last she handed him the coat and helped him to put it on. He went to the old green sofa, and somewhat to his dismay she sat down by his side. "Richard," she began, in a changed, soft voice, and not without emotion, "do you know we are expecting great things from you?" "But you shouldn't. I'm a very ordinary sort of person." "No, no. That you are not. God has given you great talents, and you must use them. Poor William always used to say that you were highly gifted and might do great things." "Might!" "Yes--if you tried." "But how am I gifted? And what 'great things' are expected?" he asked, perhaps angling for further flattering disclosures. "I cannot answer that," said Mrs. Clayton Vernon; "it is for you to answer. You have given all your friends the impression that you would do something worth doing. You have raised hopes, and you must not disappoint them. We believe in you, Richard. That is all I can say." "That's all very well; but--" He stopped and played with the seal on his watch-chain. "The fact is, I am working, you know. I want to be an author--at least a journalist." "Ah!" "It's a slow business--at first--" Suddenly moved to be confidential, he went on to give her some account, incomplete and judiciously edited, of his life during the past year. "You have relieved my mind greatly, and Clayton will be so glad. We were beginning to think--" "Why were you 'beginning to think'?" "Well, never mind now." "But why?" "Never mind. I have full confidence in you, and I am sure you will get on. Poor boy, you have no near connections or relatives now?" "No, none."