By Bess Streeter Aldrich
Mother’s Excitement Over Father’s Old Sweetheart It reaches white heat just as he starts for a class reunion which the hated rival is to attend By Bess Streeter Aldrich ILLUSTRATIONS BY HERMAN PFEIFER
MRS. HENRY Y. MASON’S years numbered fifty-two, which means that she stood on that plateau of life where one looks both hopefully forward and longingly back. Life had been very gracious to Mother Mason. It had brought her health, happiness, and Henry; and sometimes in a spasm of loyal devotion, Mother decided that the greatest of these was Henry.
To-night, as she sat knitting by the library table, her heavy figure erect, her plump face, under its graying hair, radiating energy and kindliness, her health was evident.
As for the happiness, the source of a goodly share of it was apparent. Sounds of youthful laughter came with the scent of lilacs through the open windows. They were all out there in the yard: serious-eyed Katherine home from the University for spring vacation, lovely eighteen-year-old Marcia, merry sixteen-year-old Eleanor, and troublesome, lovable twelve-year-old Junior. Even Bob, good, steady Bob, her eldest, was out there, too, just leaving with Mabel, his bride of a year, for the little home two blocks down the street. Yes, Mother had known much happiness.
Which brings us to Henry. That big, calm, conservative president of the Springertown First National Bank was just sitting down on the opposite side of the library table and unfolding the “Evening Journal” when Mother began:
“Henry, you wait a minute. I want to talk to you about something that has been on my mind all day.”
Henry looked up politely, but hung on to his paper.
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