At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. Mother had met with him two years before to begin the process of finding a match. Mr. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. “I murder people, John. We felt like thieves. “I would marry your sister anyhow, under any circumstances,” he answered.
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