Mrs. Maitland was, of course, perfectly unconscious of her son's hot misery; she was so happy at having him at home again that she could not see that he was unhappy at being at home. She was pathetically eager to please him. Her theory--if in her absorbed life she could be said to have a theory--was that Blair should have everything he wanted, so that he should the sooner be a man. Money, she thought, would give him everything. She herself wanted nothing money could give, except food and shelter; the only use she had for money was to make more money; but she realized that other people, especially young men, like the things it would buy. Twice during that particular vacation, for no cause except to gratify herself, she gave her son a wickedly large check; and once, when Nannie told her that he wanted to pay for some painting lessons, though she demurred just for a moment, she paid the bill so that his own spending-money should not be diminished. "What on earth does a man who is going to run an Iron Works want with painting lessons?" she said to the entreating sister. But even while she made her grumbling protest, she wrote a check. As for Blair, he took the money, as he took everything else that she gave him of opportunity and happiness, and said, "Thank you, mother; you are awfully good"; but he shut his eyes when he kissed her. He was blind to the love, the yearning, the outstretched hands of motherhood,--not because he was cruel, or hard, or mean; but because he was young, and delighted in beauty. Of course his wretchedness lessened after a fortnight or so--habit does much to reconcile us to unpleasantness; besides that, his painting was an interest, and his voice began to be a delight to him; he used to sing a good deal, making Nannie play his accompaniments, and sometimes his mother, working in the dining-room, would pause a moment, with lifted head, and listen and half smile--then fall to work again furiously. But the real solace to his misery and irritation came to him--a boy still in years--in the sudden realization of _Elizabeth!_ CHAPTER IV "I am going to have a party," Blair told Nannie; "I've invited David and Elizabeth, and four fellows; and you can ask four girls." Nannie quaked. "Do you mean to have them come to supper?" "You can call it 'supper'; I call it dinner." "I'm afraid Mamma won't like it; it will disturb the table." "I'm not going to have it in that hole of a dining-room; I'm going to have it in the parlor. Harris says he can manage perfectly well. We'll hang a curtain across the arch and have the table in the back parlor." "But Harris can't wait on us in there, and on Mamma in the dining-room," Nannie objected. "We shall have our dinner at seven, after Harris has given mother her supper on that beautiful table of hers." "But--" said Nannie. "You tell her about it," Blair coaxed; "she'll take anything from you."