Oh, yes, there are degrees in mothers.
Mrs. Roberts, meantime, broke off blossoms with lavish hand, and made
bouquets for Nimble Dick and for Dirk. He took the bright-hued ones with
a smile, but the lily he held by itself, and still looked at it.
They went away at last noisily; growing almost, if not quite, rough
towards one another, at least, and directly they were out of the door,
Nimble Dick gave a whoop that would have chilled the blood of nervous
women. But matron and maiden looked at each other and laughed.
"We have kept them pent up all the evening, and that is the escape-valve
being raised to avoid a general explosion." This was Mrs. Roberts'
explanation.
They were quite alone. Alfred, on being invited in low tones to tarry
and talk things over, had shaken his head, and replied, significantly:--
"Thank you! no; I am one of them, and must stand on the same level."
"You are right," Mrs. Roberts said, smilingly; "you must have been an
apt pupil, my friend. That dear sister taught you a great deal."
He held up the bouquet which she had made for him.
"I am going to put it before Ester's picture," he said; "her work is
going on."
"Well," said Gracie, "it is over, and we lived through it.
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