that Lloyd, for instance, revels and glitters in--teas, functions,
social routs, and all that, you know. He has only his mother, a dear
old Highland lady, poor, proud, and independent. She lives in a
quaint little house out on the Commons away behind the college, and
lives for, in, with, by, and around Shock, and he vice versa. He
shares everything with her, his work down in the mission--"

"Mission!" interrupted Betty.

"Yes. Runs a mission down in St. John's ward. Gives her all his
experiences with the denizens of that precinct, keeps her in touch
with his college work, and even with his football. You ought to see
him lay a out the big matches before her on the tea table with
plates, cups, salt cellars, knives, spoons, and you ought to see her
excitement and hear her criticisms. Oh, she's a great sport!"

"Go on," said Helen, her fine eyes beginning to glow. "Go on. Tell
us more about her."

But Brown shut up abruptly, as if he had been taking a liberty with
the privacy of his friend's home.

"Oh," he said lightly, "there's nothing more to tell. They live a
very quiet, very simple, but, I think, a very beautiful life."

"And she's fond of football?" inquired Betty.

"Devoted to it."

"And has she never seen a game? Has she never seen Shock play?"