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
