The bitterness and doubt from which Wayne was suffering were not emotions that disposed him to confidence. He did not want to tell his mother what he was going through, for the obvious and perhaps unworthy reason that it was just what she would have expected him to go through. At the same time a real deceit was involved in concealing it, and so, tipping his chair back against her wall, he said: “The firm has asked me to go to China for them.” His mother turned, her whole face lit up with interest. “To China! How interesting!” she said. “China is a wonderful country. How I should like to go to China!” “Come along. I don’t start for two weeks.” She shook her head. “No, if you go, I’ll make a trip to that hypnotic clinic of Dr. Platerbridge’s; and if I can learn the trick, I will open one here.” The idea crossed Wayne’s mind that perhaps he had not the power of inspiring affection. “You don’t miss people a bit, do you, Mother?” he said. “Yes, Pete, I do; only there is so much to be done. What does Mathilde say to you going off like this? How long will you be gone?” “More than a year.” “Pete, how awful for her!” “There is nothing to prevent her going with me.” “You couldn’t take that child to China.” “You may be glad to know that she is cordially of your opinion.” The feeling behind his tone at last attracted his mother’s full attention. “But, my dear boy,” she said gently, “she has never been anywhere in her life without a maid. She probably doesn’t know how to do her hair or mend her clothes or anything practical.” “Mother dear, you are not so awfully practical yourself,” he answered; “but you would have gone.” Mrs. Wayne looked impish. “I always loved that sort of thing,” she said; and then, becoming more maternal, she added, “and that doesn’t mean it would be sensible because I’d do it.” “Well,”--Wayne stood up preparatory to leaving the room,--“I mean to take her if she’ll go.” His mother, who had now finished winding her braid very neatly around her head, sank into a chair. “Oh, dear!” she said, “I almost wish I weren’t dining with Mr. Lanley. He’ll think it’s all my fault.” “I doubt if he knows about it.” Mrs. Wayne’s eyes twinkled. “May I tell him? I should like to see his face.” “Tell him I am going, if you like. Don’t say I want to take her with me.” Her face fell. “That wouldn’t be much fun,” she answered, “because I suppose the truth is they won’t be sorry to have you out of the way.”