When his mother
came up-stairs to kiss him good night he told her.
"Mother," said he, "I have something to tell
you."
"All right, Jim," replied Sally Patterson, with her
boyish air.
"It is very important," said Jim.
Mrs. Patterson did not laugh; she did not even
smile. She sat down beside Jim's bed and looked
seriously at his eager, rapt, shamed little boy-face
on the pillow. "Well?" said she, after a minute
which seemed difficult to him.
Jim coughed. Then he spoke with a blurt.
"Mother," said Jim, "by and by, of course not quite
yet, but by and by, will you have any objection to
Miss Lucy Rose as a daughter?"
Even then Sally Patterson did not laugh or even
smile. "Are you thinking of marrying her, Jim?"
asked she, quite as if her son had been a man.
"Yes, mother," replied Jim. Then he flung up
his little arms in pink pajama sleeves, and Sally
Patterson took his face between her two hands and
kissed him warmly.
"She is a darling, and your choice does you credit,
Jim," said she. "Of course you have said nothing
to her yet?"
"I thought it was rather too soon."
"I really think you are very wise, Jim," said his
mother. "It is too soon to put such ideas into
the poor child's head. She is younger than you,
isn't she, Jim?"
"She is just six months and three days younger,"
replied Jim, with majesty.
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