mentioning it? Do you think your mother’ll expect us to do anything for her?”
Clem regarded him with cautious scrutiny. He was acting well, and her profound distrust began to be mingled with irritating uncertainty.
“What can she expect? If she does, she’ll have to be disappointed, that’s all.”
“I don’t want to seem mean, you know. But then she isn’t so badly off herself, is she?”
“I know nothing about it. You’d better ask her.”
And Clem grinned. Thereupon Joseph struck a facetious note, and for half-an-hour made himself very agreeable. Now for the first time, he said, could he feel really settled; life was smooth before him. They would have a comfortable home, the kind of place to which he could invite his friends; one or two excellent fellows he knew would bring their wives, and so Clem would have more society.
“Suppose you learn the piano, old girl? It wouldn’t be amiss. By the bye, I hope they’ll turn you out some creditable mourning. You’ll have to find a West End dressmaker.
She listened, and from time to time smiled ambiguously. . . .
