Page:Hollyhock house; a story for girls (IA hollyhockhousest00tagg).pdf/320

298 “How do you like my son Mark? This is his first birthday; it was Mark Walpole’s nineteenth birthday, Marygold,” he said.

“Dear Mr. Moulton, we never, never shall be able to say how glad we all are; as glad as we can be for you, too,” said Mary, seizing her guardian by both hands.

“Ah, then I can see that you like my son Mark, for I’m sure you would not rejoice if I had a son whom you disapproved,” returned Mr. Moulton, swinging both of Mary’s arms by the extended hands, and ending by laying her hands on his shoulders while he kissed her cheek.

“I’ve liked Mark from the first time I saw him,” said Mrs. Moulton, temperately, but with a look at Mark that made her words sound warmer than their registered temperature. “When he came over from your house to talk to Mr. Moulton, he turned back to straighten a rug, and he helped me to catch my canary, which had flown out of his cage; he handled the little creature gently and wooed him with soft notes. There’s a boy, I said to myself, who is orderly; witness the rug. Gentle, patient; witness the bird. Kind and respectful; witness his bothering about the concerns of a woman of my age. I decided on the spot that Mark was a