"Well, yes. I beg your pardon. I was just feeling pretty good over the way business matters were going, and--well, the truth is, I was just a little--well, a little exuberant, you know." Mrs. Eddring seated herself and looked about her at the dingy little office, which ever seemed to her poor housing for one who, in her belief, was the greatest man in all the world. "I beg your pardon, John," said she, "for intruding in your business hours, but I was down-town to-day, and I thought I would just drop in to see you." She gazed at him keenly, noting with a mother's eye the worn look on his face. "I don't think you've been looking well lately, John," said she. "Does your arm still trouble you?" "Why, of course not, it's all well. Why, I'm feeling fine, fine! You and I ought to be feeling well these days, for you know we have just finished paying for our house, and everything is looking perfectly splendid all around. You didn't know I had a raise in my salary last month, did you?" He turned his back, as he said this last, that his mother might not discover on his face so palpable a falsehood. "Is that so, John?" she said. "Why, I'm so glad!" A faint spot of color came into the faded cheeks, and the old eyes brightened. "Well, I'm sure you deserved it. They couldn't pay you more than you're worth." "No," said Eddring, grimly, "they are not apt to." His mother caught no hidden meaning, but went on. "You're a good business man, John, I know," said she, "and I know you have always been a gentleman in your work." Here spoke the old South, its pride visible in the lift of the white crowned head, and the flash of an eye not yet dimmed in spite of the gentleness of the pale, thin face. Eddring gulped a bit. "Well, you know, in business," said he, "a fellow pretty near has to choose--" "And you have always chosen to be a gentleman." "As near as I could, mother," said he, gravely. "I have just done the best I could. Now, as I was saying, I am feeling mighty fine to-day. Everything coming out so well--the truth is--" "John," said his mother, sharply, "why do you say 'the fact is,' and 'the truth is'? You don't usually do that." He did not answer, and there went on the subtle self-communings of the mother-brain, exceedingly difficult to lead astray. For the time she did not voice her thought, but approaching him, placed a hand upon his shoulder, and brushed back a lock of hair from his forehead. "Pretty gray, isn't it, mother?" said he, smiling at her. "Nonsense! Is that what you were thinking about?" "Well, you see, I'm getting--" "No, you're not! You don't look a day over twenty-five." "That's right. That's right," said he, blithely. "I am twenty-five, exactly twenty-five; and they're raising my salary right along. What'll it be when I'm fifty?" "You ought to have a new necktie, John," said his mother, smoothing down the lapel of his coat. "A rising man, like you, my son, must always remember little things."