He dwelt on these visions in so brisk and vivid a manner, that he even made his mother cease her weary weeping (which had lasted the livelong day, despite all Maggie's efforts) to look up and listen to him.
"I'll answer for it," said he: "before long I'll be an American judge with miles of cotton plantations." "But in America," sighed out his mother.
"Never mind, mother!" said he, with a tenderness which made Maggie's heart glad.

"If you won't come over to America to me, why, I'll sell them all, and come back to live in England.

People will forget the scrapes that the rich American got into in his youth." "You can pay back Mr.Buxton then," said his mother.
"Oh, yes--of course," replied he, as if falling into a new and trivial idea.
Thus the evening whiled away.

The mother and son sat, hand in hand, before the little glinting blazing parlor fire, with the unlighted candles on the table behind.

Maggie, busy in preparations, passed softly in and out.