home and keep it in her room without a word about it to her
father and mother. Now, Walter was just the other way. Walter
would----" But here Mrs. Adams checked herself, though she
increased the volume of her laughter. "How silly of me!" she
exclaimed. "I expect you know how mothers ARE, though, Mr.
Russell. Give us a chance and we'll talk about our children
forever! Alice would feel terribly if she knew how I've been
going on about her to you."

In this Mrs. Adams was right, though she did not herself suspect
it, and upon an almost inaudible word or two from him she went on
with her topic. "Of course my excuse is that few mothers have a
daughter like Alice. I suppose we all think the same way about
our children, but SOME of us must be right when we feel we've got
the best. Don't you think so?"

"Yes. Yes, indeed."

"I'm sure _I_ am!" she laughed. "I'll let the others speak for
themselves." She paused reflectively. "No; I think a mother
knows when she's got a treasure in her family. If she HASN'T got
one, she'll pretend she has, maybe; but if she has, she knows it.
I certainly know _I_ have. She's always been what people call
'the joy of the household'--always cheerful, no matter what went
wrong, and always ready to smooth things over with some bright,
witty saying. You must be sure not to TELL we've had this little
chat about her--she'd just be furious with me--but she IS such a
dear child! You won't tell her, will you?"

"No," he said, and again applied the handkerchief to his forehead