Suddenly his lips
began to quiver and into his eyes came tears, which he hastily wiped
away. Fresh tears came, and he was just as prompt to brush these away;
but it was useless, for more followed.
When his mother stepped into the room, he swung his chair quickly and
turned his back to her. She must have noticed something unusual, for she
stood quietly behind him a long while, as if waiting for him to speak.
She realized how difficult it always is for men to talk of the things
they feel most deeply. She must help him of course.
From her bedroom she had observed all that had taken place in the living
room, so that she did not have to ask questions. She walked very softly
over to the two sleeping children, lifted them, and bore them to her own
bed. Then she went back to her son.
"Lars," she said, as if she did not see that he was weeping, "you had
better let me keep these children."
"What, mother?" he gasped, trying to smother the sobs.
"I have been suffering for years--ever since father took the cabin from
their mother, and so have you."
"Yes, but--"
"I want to keep them here and make something of them; they are too good
to beg."
He could not speak, for now the tears were beyond his control; but he
took his old mother's withered hand and patted it.
Then he jumped up, as if something had frightened him.
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