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NOVELS BY O. DOUGLAS
HODDER AND STOUGHTON LTD., LONDON.
MY MOTHER
IN MEMORY OF
HER TWO SONS
A November night in Glasgow.
After four-and-twenty years of matrimony John Thomson still cried for Jeanie his wife the moment he entered the house.
Mrs. Thomson came out of the dining-room and helped her husband to take off his coat.
"You're home, Papa," she said, "and in nice time, too. Now we'll all get our tea comfortable in the parlour before we change our clothes. Your things are all laid out on the bed, John, and I've put your gold studs in a dress shirt--but whit's that you're carrying, John?"
John Thomson regarded his parcel rather shame-facedly. "It's a pine-apple for your party, Mamma. I was lookin' in a fruit-shop when I was waitin' for ma car and I just took a notion to get it. Not," he added, "but what I prefer tinned ones maself."
Mrs. Thomson patted her husband's arm approvingly. "Well, that was real mindful of you, Papa. It'll look well on the table. Jessie," to her daughter, who at that moment came into the lobby from the kitchen, "get down another fruit dish. Here's Papa brought home a pine-apple for your party."
"Now, Jessie," Mrs. Thomson broke in, "don't keep Papa, or the sausages'll get cold. Where's Rubbert and Alick? We'll niver be ready at eight o'clock at this rate."
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