“And never will have, dear madam, unless some one gives him the opportunity of making the trial. And as for his youth, mother—why his youth is positively an advantage—for with his practical knowledge, intelligence and honesty, he will be free from the conceit and crotchets of an old manager, and will the more readily fall into your system.” “There is something in that,” said the lady. “And now, Archer, you will remain and dine with me to-day. And remember, that when this week is out, the next week belongs to me. You must bring your friend with you when you come. Where did you leave him?” “Playing battledore with Zuleime. But, dear mother, about this Carl Kavanagh—I hope you will consider the plan favorably, and try him.” “I will think of it, Archer, because you propose it, if for no other reason. And now the horn is blowing for the hands to go to dinner, and my task for the day is relieved. Let us return to the house.” They turned their animals’ heads, and rode up the ascent, and entered the shady yard. Then the lady alighted from her mule, gathered up her riding skirt, and leaning on the arm of her son, entered the house. A plain but substantial dinner was soon served. Archer Clifton enjoyed his mother’s plain meals more than the most luxurious dinners—not but that he had a taste for luxury—what man has not?—but that there was a home comfort about his mother’s table, that gave him appetite and spirit. And then, after dinner, he could go and stretch himself upon the best lounge in that large, shady, breezy parlor, with a book, and read or doze until she had attended to the putting away of her things, and had locked up her pantries. Then she would come and sit in the rocking-chair by his side, while he could stretch himself at ease, in any ungainly attitude he pleased, and feel what a refreshing thing it was to throw off his dignity in the presence of the only one with whom he could do so—his own familiar mother. Not but that he honored—nay, _revered_ her—but that he enjoyed only in her house, that deep, full sense of home freedom, which not only her son—but to a certain degree all others felt, who possessed the privilege of the lady’s friendship.