I stopped short. I could not tell him why I did not anchor. He laughed aloud. “That's all right,” he said. “I guess Mabel's story is near enough to the truth for all practical purposes. Mrs. Paine,” with a sudden change to seriousness, “you can understand why I have come here this morning. If it had not been for your son's pluck, and cool head, and good judgment I--Mrs. Colton and I might have been--God knows in what state we might have been to-day! God knows! I can't think of it.” His voice trembled. Mother put out a hand and took mine. “Roscoe,” she said, “Roscoe.” “So I came to thank him,” went on our visitor. “This isn't the first time he has done something of the sort. It seems almost as if he--But never mind that. I'm not going to be foolish. Your son and I, Mrs. Paine, have been fighting each other most of the summer. That's all right. It was a square fight and, until this newest freak of his--and he has got me guessing as to what it means--I admit I thought he was quite as likely to lick me as I was to lick him. I've watched him pretty closely and I am a pretty fair judge of a man, I flatter myself. Did he tell you that, a while ago, I offered him a place in my office?” “In your office? You offered him that? No, he did not tell me. Roscoe!” reproachfully. “I did not tell you, Mother, because it was not worth while. Of course I could not accept the offer.” She hesitated and, before she spoke, Colton broke in. “Why not? That was what you were going to say, Mrs. Paine, I take it. That is what _I_ said--why not? And I say it again. Paine, that offer is still open.” I shook my head. “I told you then that I could not accept,” I said. “It is impossible.” “Why is it impossible? So far as I am concerned I believe you would be a mighty good investment.” “Impossible,” I said again. “Nothing is impossible. We won't waste words. I am going to be plain and I think Mrs. Paine will excuse me. You think you should not leave your mother, perhaps. I understand that reason. It would be a good one, except that--well, that it isn't good any longer. Your mother is much better than she was. Quimby--her doctor and mine--says so. I shall see that she is well looked after. If she needs a nurse she shall have one, the best we can get. Oh, be still and let me finish! You can talk afterward. You're not going so far away. New York isn't the end of the earth; it is only the center, or it thinks it is. You'll be in close touch with Denboro all the time and you can come here whenever you want to. Now will you take my offer?” “No.” “Young man, if I didn't know there were brains inside that head of yours I should think it was, as the boys say, solid ivory. Confound you! Here, Mrs. Paine,” turning to Mother, “you take him in hand. Tell him he must come with me.” “Mother--” I protested. He cut my protest short. “Tell him,” he ordered. Mother looked at me. “I think, perhaps, you should accept, Roscoe,” she said, slowly. “Accept! Mother!”