of his productions. However, today he was glad of the high rate of
speed of which he was capable, and did not worry as much as he
sometimes did about his landing at the exact goal. He knew very well
that he could finish his sermon, easily, eat his doughnuts, and sit
reflecting as long as he chose. He chose to do so for a long time,
although his reflections were not particularly happy ones. When he
had left the theological seminary a year ago, he had had his life
planned out so exactly that it did not seem possible to him that the
plans could fail. He had graduated at the head of his class. He had
had no doubt of a city church. One of the professors, a rich man with
much influence, had practically promised him one. Wesley went home to
his doting mother, and told her the news. Wesley's mother believed in
much more than the city church. She believed her son to be capable of
anything. "I shall have a large salary, mother," boasted Wesley, "and
you shall have the best clothes money can buy, and the parsonage is
sure to be beautiful."

"How will your old mother look in fine feathers, in such a beautiful
home?" asked Wesley's mother, but she asked as a lovely, much-petted
woman asks such a question. She had her little conscious smile all
ready for the rejoinder which she knew her son would not fail to
give. He was very proud of his mother.

"Why, mother," he said, "as far as that goes, I wouldn't balk at a
throne for you as queen dowager."

"You are a silly boy," said Mrs. Elliot, but she stole a glance at
herself in an opposite mirror, and smiled complacently. She did not
look old enough to be the mother of her son. She was tall and
slender, and fair-haired, and she knew how to dress well on her very