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Book, page 101 / 224 at his mother? Yet you need not judge him too harshly. He thought of his mother, indeed, when he laughed; but alas! he thought of her as drunk. And he knew her scarcely at all, save as that word described her. How _could_ "mother" mean to him what it meant to Alfred Ried? what it meant even to Dirk Colson, whose mother, weak indeed in body and spirit, full of complaining words, oftentimes weakly bitter words to him, yet patched his clothes so long as she could get patches and thread, and would have washed them if she could have got soap, and been able to bring the water, and if her only tub hadn't been in pawn. 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. And they _did_ all come! I am amazed over that! And how they _did eat_! I
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