Through an open door he saw into the kitchen, where the fire was crackling in the stove and the evening meal already well under way.

Out in the small back yard was George, Jr., frolicking with a young dog he had recently purchased, and in the parlor Jessica was playing at the piano, the sounds of a merry waltz filling every nook and corner of the comfortable home.

Every one, like himself, seemed to have regained his good spirits, to be in sympathy with youth and beauty, to be inclined to joy and merry-making.

He felt as if he could say a good word all around himself, and took a most genial glance at the spread table and polished sideboard before going upstairs to read his paper in the comfortable armchair of the sitting-room which looked through the open windows into the street.

When he entered there, however, he found his wife brushing her hair and musing to herself the while.
He came lightly in, thinking to smooth over any feeling that might still exist by a kindly word and a ready promise, but Mrs.Hurstwood said nothing.