His mother bit her lip.
"When was that?"
"Oh! about--a long time ago--I wanted her to take me again, but she
wouldn't. You and Daddy never go to church, do you?"
"No, we don't."
"Why don't you?"
His mother smiled.
"Well, dear, we both of us went when we were little. Perhaps we went
when we were too little."
"I see," said little Jon, "it's dangerous."
"You shall judge for yourself about all those things as you grow up."
Little Jon replied in a calculating manner:
"I don't want to grow up, much. I don't want to go to school." A sudden
overwhelming desire to say something more, to say what he really felt,
turned him red. "I--I want to stay with you, and be your lover, Mum."
Then with an instinct to improve the situation, he added quickly "I
don't want to go to bed to-night, either. I'm simply tired of going to
bed, every night."
"Have you had any more nightmares?"
"Only about one. May I leave the door open into your room to-night,
Mum?"
"Yes, just a little." Little Jon heaved a sigh of satisfaction.
"What did you see in Glensofantrim?"
"Nothing but beauty, darling."
"What exactly is beauty?"
"What exactly is--Oh! Jon, that's a poser."
"Can I see it, for instance?" His mother got up, and sat beside him.
"You do, every day. The sky is beautiful, the stars, and moonlit nights,
and then the birds, the flowers, the trees--they're all beautiful. Look
out of the window--there's beauty for you, Jon."
"Oh! yes, that's the view. Is that all?"
"All? no. The sea is wonderfully beautiful, and the waves, with their
foam flying back."
"Did you rise from it every day, Mum?"
His mother smiled. "Well, we bathed."
Little Jon suddenly reached out and caught her neck in his hands.
"I know," he said mysteriously, "you're it, really, and all the rest is
make-believe."
She sighed, laughed, said: "Oh! Jon!"
Little Jon said critically:
"Do you think Bella beautiful, for instance? I hardly do."
"Bella is young; that's something."
"But you look younger, Mum. If you bump against Bella she hurts."
"I don't believe 'Da' was beautiful, when I come to think of it; and
Mademoiselle's almost ugly."
"Mademoiselle has a very nice face." "Oh! yes; nice. I love your little
rays, Mum."
"Rays?"
Little Jon put his finger to the outer corner of her eye.
"Oh! Those? But they're a sign of age."
"They come when you smile."
"But they usen't to."
"Oh! well, I like them. Do you love me, Mum?"
"I do--I do love you, darling."
"Ever so?"
"Ever so!"
"More than I thought you did?"