“It makes me happy to see you so well and bright,” she said. “I don’t get on your nerves so much, eh, mother?” She laughed quietly. “Well, I must go and tidy my hair.” She moved toward the bedroom, but stopped to pack up her letters. “I am so sorry you have to go out,” said the old lady. “I shan’t be more than a few minutes,” said Clare. “But I must go. Besides, after this I am going to _give_ up some of my visiting work.” “Give it up, dear?” “Yes. One must be moderate even in district visiting.” She went into the bedroom, but left the door open so that she could hear her mother. “Clare!” said the old lady. “Yes, mother.” “What is that surprise you were going to give us?” “Surprise, mother?” “Yes,” said Mrs. Heywood. “The good news?” “Oh, yes, I forgot,” said Clare. “Come in and I will tell you.” Mrs. Heywood went into the bedroom. Outside, in the street, a man with a fiddle was playing the “Intermezzo.” Presently both women came out. Clare was smiling, with her arm round Mrs. Heywood’s neck. Mrs. Heywood was wiping her eyes as though crying a little. “Cheer up,” said Clare. “It’s nothing to cry about.” “I am crying because I am so glad,” said Mrs. Heywood. “Well, that’s a funny thing to do,” said Clare, laughing gaily. “Now I must run away. You won’t let Herbert drown himself, will you?” “No, dear,” said Mrs. Heywood, wiping her eyes. “Who would have thought it!” said Mrs. Heywood, speaking to herself as her daughter-in-law left the room. She went over to the mantelpiece and took up her son’s photograph and kissed it. Then she went to the door and stood out in the hall and called in a sweet old woman’s voice: “Herbert! Herbert, dear!” “Are you calling, mother?” answered Herbert from another room. “Yes,” said Mrs. Heywood. “I want you.” “I don’t feel a bit like cribbage, mother,”’ said Herbert. “I don’t want you to play cribbage to-night,” said the old lady. “I have something to say to you.” “Has Clare gone?” asked Herbert, still calling from the other room. “Yes,” said Mrs. Heywood. “But she won’t be long.” “Oh, all right. I’ll be along in a moment.” Mrs. Heywood went back into the room and waited for her son eagerly. Presently he came in with a pipe in his hand and book under his arm. He had changed into a shabby old jacket, and was in carpet slippers. “What’s the matter, mother?” he asked. “There’s nothing the matter,” said the old lady; then she became very excited, and raised her hands and cried out: “At least, everything is the matter. It’s the only thing that matters! ... Oh, Herbert!” She laughed and cried at the same time so that her son was alarmed and stared at her in amazement. “You aren’t ill, are you?” he said. “Shall I send for a doctor?” Mrs. Heywood shook her trembling old head. “I’m quite well. I never felt so well.” “You had better sit down, mother,” said Herbert. He took her hand and led her to a chair. “What’s up, eh, old lady? Mollie hasn’t run away, has she?”