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A faint smile lighted up the features of Mr Lawrence, who slightly moved his head to cast his eyes upon her. Billy grinned and dropped the snake into his jacket pocket. "I brought your Ma's groceries," he said. "Is she in the house?" Mr Lawrence was extremely easy. There was nothing of the embarrassment in the presence of ladies which is often visible even in well-bred men who have fallen from their estate, and pass their days in liquor and in looking in and out of such haunts as "The Swan." Indeed, his well-governed behaviour had something of a pre-determined air as of a man who acts a part and with all the resolution of his soul means to carry it through, though he may be obstructed by physical pain or by mental distress..

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He looked steadily at his son whose eyes were fixed upon the carriage which the Actons were at that moment entering. The horse reached forward his long muzzle and lipped one of the boy's ears. "Say horses don't understand!" grinned Maurice. "Gee! I guess maybe they do understand, though." He sighed and turned to glance back at the cottage resting in the hardwood grove. It looked very homey, very restful to him, beneath its vines of clustering wild-grape and honeysuckle. It was home—home it must be always. And Mary loved it just as he loved it; this he knew. She was a fine woman, a great helpmate, a wonderful wife and mother. She was fair minded too. She loved Billy quite as much as she loved her own son, Anson. Billy must be more careful, more thoughtful of her comfort. He would have a heart to heart talk with his son, he told himself as he went on to the barn. "Well, Billy," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "seein's we're to be right close related, some day, I guess it's up to me to give you your supper. You go right along over to the house and eat with Ann.".