Something of this she said to her son, omitting, of course, that part of her thoughts which referred to Melinda.

With Mrs.
Jones, however, it was different.

In her surprise and disappointment she let fall some remarks which opened Richard's eyes a little, and made him look at her half amused and half sorry, as, suspending her employment of paring apples for the dinner pie she put the corner of her apron to her eyes, and "hoped the new bride would not have many airs, and would put up with his mother's ways.
"You," and here the apron and hand with the knife in it came down from her eyes--"you'll excuse me, Richard, for speaking so plain, but you seem like my own boy, and I can't help it.

Your mother is the best and cleverest woman in the world, but she has some peculiarities which a Boston girl may not put up with, not being used to them as Melin--I mean, as poor Abigail was." It was the first time it had ever occurred to Richard that his mother had peculiarities, and even now he did not know what they were.

Taking her all in all, she was as nearly perfect, he thought, as a woman well could be, and on his way home from his interview with Mrs.Jones he pondered in his mind what she could mean, and then wondered if for the asking he could have taken Melinda Jones to the fireside where he was going to install Ethelyn Grant.