“I shall have to look after her,” she went on. “Charles can’t be depended on to do so. It is a great pity she has never married. A great deal will come on me, now that mother is gone. For instance, there is her biography. I must arrange for it without too much delay. I am aware that people will be waiting for it eagerly.” “We can hardly hope to have the complete record of so active a life immediately,” I said, thinking to be polite. “Perhaps not,” she answered, “but my husband says that the success of a biography depends very largely on when it is issued. It mustn’t be too long delayed. You may not know that mother kept a copious journal all through the years, from her earliest girlhood. With the letters she saved, it will be of the greatest service to her biographer, I feel sure.” “I am convinced of it,” I returned. Indeed, I could picture to myself the amazing confessions that must be hidden in any really intimate journal by Mrs. Longbow. I suspected that the revelation of it would shock right-minded persons; but I did not doubt that the spectacle of self-immolation finding its reward in worldly success and fame would give to thousands the thrill of true romance. “Charles tells me,” proceeded Mrs. Bradford, “that you suggested the possibility of our collaborating--the three of us--in the biography. It is a very beautiful idea. ‘Mrs. Longbow, by Her Children!’ The great public servant as seen by those nearest and dearest to her, by those whom she brought into the world and trained to follow in her steps! Mother would have appreciated your thinking of it, Robert, I feel sure. But you must see how impracticable it would be. Margaret is in such a state, and Charles would never get anything done. He is very busy with his work, of course, as all of us are; and he is apt to weigh things very critically. I should have great trouble in getting the biography written within a reasonable time. I have thought that perhaps we ought to get Henry to do it.” “He would no doubt do it very effectively,” I said, and rose to go. “We must consider carefully a great many things, mustn’t we?” she remarked brightly. “And the matter is so very important! It is a great responsibility for one to be the child of such a mother. So kind of you to come, Robert! I prize your sympathy not only for itself, but because I know how greatly you admired mother. It has been a great consolation to see you.” I left the house, glad that the interview was over and determined to see as little of the Longbows as possible, unless I could get Charles by himself. It struck me that, in donning her mother’s prophetic mantle, of which she obviously considered herself the rightful heiress, Mrs. Bradford found compensation for her responsibilities. I could not see why I should be troubled about the question of a proper tribute to Mrs. Longbow, whose personality I disliked as cordially as I disliked most of her agitations. I wondered whether other friends had suffered in the same way.