"Against falling in love, really, with one of the Challoner girls!" returned Mr. Mayne, trying to evade the fire of Dick's eyes, and blustering a little in consequence. "Why, they have not a penny, one of them, and, if report be true, Mrs. Challoner's money is very shakily invested. Paine told me so the other day. He said he should never wonder if a sudden crash came any minute." "Is this true, Richard?" "Paine declares it is; and think of Dick saddling himself with the support of a whole family!" "It strikes me you are taking things very much for granted," returned his son, trying to speak coolly, but flushing like a girl over his words. "I think you might wait, father, until I proposed bringing you home a daughter-in-law." "I am only warning you, Dick, that the Challoner connection would be distasteful to me," replied Mr. Mayne, feeling that he had gone a little too far. "If you had brothers and sisters it would not matter half so much; but it would be too hard if my only son were to cross my wishes." "Should you disinherit me, father?" observed Dick, cheerfully. He had recovered his coolness and pluck, and began to feel more equal to the occasion. "We should see about that, but I hardly think it would be for your advantage to oppose me too much," returned his father with an ominous pucker of his eyebrows, which warned Dick, that it was hardly safe to chaff the old boy too much to-night. "I think I will go to bed, Richard," put in poor Mrs. Mayne. She had wisely forborne to mix in the discussion, fearing that it would bring upon her the vials of her husband's wrath. Mr. Mayne was as choleric as a Welshman, and had a reserve force of sharp cynical sayings that were somewhat hard to bear. He was disposed to turn upon her on such occasions, and to accuse her of spoiling Dick and taking his part against his father; between the two Richards she sometimes had a very bad time indeed. Dick lighted his mother's candle, and bade her good-night; but all the same she knew she had not seen the last of him. A few minutes afterwards there was a hasty tap at the bedroom door, and Dick thrust in his head. "Come in, my dear; I have been expecting you," she said, with a pleased smile. He always came to her when he was ruffled or put out, and brought her all his grievances; surely this was the very meaning and essence of her motherhood,--this healing and comfort that lay in her power of sympathy. When he was a little fellow, had she not extracted many a thorn and bound up many a cut finger? and now he was a man, would she be less helpful to him when he wanted a different kind of comfort? "Come in, my son," she said, beckoning him to the low chair beside her, into which Dick threw himself with a petulant yawn. "Mother, what made the pater so hard on me to-night? he cut up as rough as though I had committed some crime."