"I've had a long journey," she said, "an' I've been pretty flustered, through not bein' used to travel. I don't know how I'd have bore up at first--bein' flustered so--if it hadn't have been for everybody bein' so good to me. I'd mention my son when I had to ask anything, an' they'd smile as good-natured as could be, an' tell me in a minute." The multiplicity of new dishes and rare wine bewildered her, but she sat through the repast simple and unabashed. "There's some as wouldn't like me bein' so ignorant," she said, "but Jem doesn't mind." The subject of her son's virtues was an inexhaustible one. The silence about her only gave her courage and eloquence. His childish strength and precocity, his bravery, his good temper, his generous ways, were her themes. "He come to me in time of trouble," she said, "an' he made it lighter--an' he's been makin' it lighter ever since. Who'd have thought that a simple body like me would ever have a grand home like this--and it earned and bought by my own son? I beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen," looking round with happy tears. "I didn't go to do it, an' there's no reason for it, except me bein' took a little by surprise through not bein' exactly prepared for such a grand place an' gentlefolk's comp'ny, as is so good an' understands a mother's feelin's." When the repast was at an end, she got up and made her little courtesy to them all again. If the gentlefolk would excuse her, she would bid them good-night. She was tired and not used to late hours. To the girl who had sat at her side she gave an admiring smile of farewell. "You're very pretty, my dear," she said, "if I may take the liberty, bein' a old woman. Good-night! God bless you!" When she was gone, the girl lay forward, her face hidden upon her arms on the table. For a few seconds no one spoke; then Haworth looked up from his plate, on which he had kept his eyes fixed, and broke the stillness. "If there'd been a fellow among you that had dared to show his teeth," he said, "I'd have wrung his cursed neck!" CHAPTER XX. MISS FFRENCH MAKES A CALL. The following Sunday morning, the congregation of Broxton Chapel was thrown into a state of repressed excitement. Haworth's carriage, with a couple of servants, brought his mother to enjoy Brother Hixon's eloquence. To the presence of the carriage and servants Haworth had held firm. Upon the whole, he would have preferred that she should have presented herself at the door of Broxton Old Church, which was under the patronage of the county families and honored by their presence; but the little woman had exhibited such uneasiness at the unfolding of his plan of securing the largest and handsomest pew for her that he had yielded the point. "I've always been a chapel-goin' woman, Jem," she had said, "an' I wouldn't like to change. An' I should feel freer where there's not so many gentlefolk."