He was highly excited.
"What do you think I've got for my pictures, mother ?" he asked, coming home one evening.

She saw by his eyes he was glad.

Her face flushed.
"Now, how should I know, my boy!" "A first prize for those glass jars--" "H'm!" "And a first prize for that sketch up at Willey Farm." "Both first ?" "Yes." "H'm!" There was a rosy, bright look about her, though she said nothing.
"It's nice," he said, "isn't it ?" "It is." "Why don't you praise me up to the skies ?" She laughed.
"I should have the trouble of dragging you down again," she said.
But she was full of joy, nevertheless.

William had brought her his sporting trophies.

She kept them still, and she did not forgive his death.