It began, "Boy dear--"


"I wonder if I shall make you understand what it is so necessary that
you should understand? It has been so hard all of these years when
your clear little lad's eyes have looked into mine to feel that some
day you might blame--me. Youth is so uncompromising, Derry, dear--and
so logical--so demanding of--justice. And life isn't logical--or
just--not with the sharp-edged justice which gives cakes to the good
little boys and switches to the bad ones. And you have always insisted
on the cakes and switches, Derry, and that's why I am afraid of you.

"Even when you were only ten and I hugged you close in the night--those
nights when we were alone, Derry, and your father was out on some wild
road under the moonlight, or perhaps with the snow shutting out the
moon, you used to whisper, 'But he oughtn't to do it, Mother--' And I
knew that he ought not, but, oh, Derry, I loved him, and do you
remember, I used to say, 'But he's so good to us, Laddie,--and perhaps
we can love him enough to make him stop.'

"But you are a man now, Derry. I am sure you will be a man before you
read this, for my little boy will obey me until he comes to man's
estate, and then he may say 'She was only a foolish loving woman, and
why should I be bound?'

"I know when that moment comes that all your father's money will not
hold you. You will not sell your soul's honor for your inheritance.
Haven't I known it all along? Haven't I seen you a little shining
knight ready to do battle for your ideals? And haven't I seen the