"Jack," she began, "I want you to listen to me, and not interrupt. You must hear the whole thing before you begin to put in your word. In the first place, you are engaged to May Calthorpe." The exclamation and the laugh which greeted this piece of information were so nearly simultaneous that Jack might be given the benefit of the doubt and so evade the charge of swearing before a lady. "Why in the world, mother," he said, "must you come harping on that string again? You know it's of no use." "You are engaged now, Jack, and of course that makes a difference." "Oh, bother! Do speak sensibly. What are you driving at?" The widow regarded him with a serene face, and settled herself more comfortably in her chair. "I came to congratulate you on your engagement to Miss May Calthorpe," she said, with all possible coolness and distinctness. "Indeed? Then I am sorry to tell you that you have wasted your labor. I haven't even seen May since we left the County Club yesterday." "Oh, I knew that." "What in the world are you driving at, mother? Perhaps you don't mind telling me who told you of the engagement." "Oh, not in the least. May told me." "May Calthorpe!" It was not strange that Jack should receive the announcement with surprise, but it was evident that there was in his mind more bewilderment. He stared at his mother without further word, while she pulled off her gloves and loosened her coat as if to prepare herself for the explanation which it was evident must follow. "Come, Jack," she remarked, when she had adjusted these preliminaries, "we may as well be clear about this. I made an offer in your name to May, and she has accepted it." Jack rose from his seat, and stood over her, his sunny face growing pale. "You made an offer in my name?" he demanded. "Sit down," she commanded, waving her hand toward his chair. "There is a good deal to be said, and you'll be tired of standing before I tell it all. Is there any danger that Mr. Fairfield may come in?" Jack walked over to the door and slipped the catch. "He is not likely to come," he said, "but it's sure now. Fire away." He spoke with a seriousness which he used seldom. There were times when lazy, good-tempered Jack Neligage took a stubborn fit, and those who knew him well did not often venture to cross him in those moods. The proverb about the wrath of a patient man had sometimes been applied to him. When these rare occasions came on which his temper gave way he became unusually calm and self-possessed, as he was now. It could not but have been evident to his mother that she had to do with her son in one of the worst of his rare rages. Perhaps the vexations of the previous days, the pile of torn bills on the table, the icy greeting Alice Endicott had given him yesterday, all had to do with the sudden outbreak of his anger, but any man might have been excused for being displeased by such an announcement as had just been made to Jack.