"Now I've spoken to you about it, Mrs. Pope," he said, "I can tell you just how I--oh, it's the only word--adore her. She seems so sweet and easy--so graceful----" Mrs. Pope turned on him abruptly, and grasped his hands; she was deeply moved. "I can't tell you," she said, "what it means to a mother to hear such things----" Words failed her, and for some moments they engaged in a mutual pressure. "Ah!" said Mr. Magnet, and had a queer wish it was the mother he had to deal with. "Are you sure, Mr. Magnet," Mrs. Pope went on as their emotions subsided, "that she really meant what she said? Girls are very strange creatures----" "She seems so clear and positive." "Her manner is always clear and positive." "Yes. I know." "I know she _has_ cared for you." "No!" "A mother sees. When your name used to be mentioned----. But these are not things to talk about. There is something--something sacred----" "Yes," he said. "Yes. Only----Of course, one thing----" Mrs. Pope seemed lost in the contemplation of water-lilies. "I wondered," said Mr. Magnet, and paused again. Then, almost breathlessly, "I wondered if there should be perhaps--some one else?" She shook her head slowly. "I should know," she said. "Are you sure?" "I know I should know." "Perhaps recently?" "I am sure I should know. A mother's intuition----" Memories possessed her for awhile. "A girl of twenty is a mass of contradictions. I can remember myself as if it was yesterday. Often one says no, or yes--out of sheer nervousness.... I am sure there is no other attachment----" It occurred to her that she had said enough. "What a dignity that old gold-fish has!" she remarked. "He waves his tail--as if he were a beadle waving little boys out of church." § 5 Mrs. Pope astonished Marjorie by saying nothing about the all too obvious event of the day for some time, but her manner to her second daughter on their way home was strangely gentle. It was as if she had realized for the first time that regret and unhappiness might come into that young life. After supper, however, she spoke. They had all gone out just before the children went to bed to look for the new moon; Daffy was showing the pseudo-twins the old moon in the new moon's arms, and Marjorie found herself standing by her mother's side. "I hope dear," said Mrs. Pope, "that it's all for the best--and that you've done wisely, dear." Marjorie was astonished and moved by her mother's tone. "It's so difficult to know what _is_ for the best," Mrs. Pope went on. "I had to do--as I did," said Marjorie. "I only hope you may never find you have made a Great Mistake, dear. He cares for you very, very much." "Oh! we see it now!" cried Rom, "we see it now! Mummy, have you seen it? Like a little old round ghost being nursed!" When Marjorie said "Good-night," Mrs. Pope kissed her with an unaccustomed effusion. It occurred to Marjorie that after all her mother had no selfish end to serve in this affair. § 6