Read it through once

The childish abruptness of the transition made them laugh, and an unpleasant moment passed away. Mrs. Lewis took the plate of cakes from the fender and poured out their tea. The door and window were open, and the dying light lent a tenderness to the tea table, to the quiet solicitude of the mother watching her son, knowing him in all his intimate habits; to the eager curiosity of the father on the other side, leaning forward delighted at every look and word, thinking it all astonishing, wonderful. Jackie sat between the women. He seemed to understand that his chance of eating as many tea-cakes as he pleased had come, and he ate with his eyes fixed on the plate, considering which piece he would have when he had finished the piece he had in his hand. Little was said--a few remarks about the fine weather, and offers to put out another cup of tea. By their silence Mrs. Lewis began to understand that they had differences to settle, and that she had better leave them. She took her shawl from the peg, and pleaded that she had an appointment with a neighbour. But she wouldn't be more than half-an-hour; would they look after the house till her return? And William watched her, thinking of what he would say when she was out of hearing. "That boy of ours is a dear little fellow; you've been a good mother, I can see that. If I had only known."