The Boys and I

say nice words they wouldn't come. But I never minded a bit, however much mother petted the boys-- I felt as if I was like her in that--we were like two mothers to them I sometimes pleased myself by fancying.

Mother stood looking at us. For a minute or two I still kept my eyes shut as if I were asleep. We often played with each other at that--"foxing," we used to call it. But generally we couldn't manage it because of bursting out laughing. To-night it wasn't that feeling that made it difficult for me to go on "foxing." It was quite a different one. Yet I was, too, a very little afraid of mother knowing I had been listening--it began to come into my mind that it was not a nice thing to do--a little like telling stories--and I almost am afraid I should not have had courage to tell mother if it had not been that just then as she stood there looking at us I heard her give a little sob. Then I could bear it no longer. I jumped up in bed and threw my arms round her neck.

"Mother, m