He went through the silent house before Sally had crept yawning from her room, and, throwing open the doors at each end of the hall, let a burst of sunshine and fresh wind into the darkness and stillness.

Then he went out, and began to walk up and down the porch as a sort of outlet to his impatience.

Over and over he said, "What can it be ?" Indeed, Dr.Howe had asked himself that question even in his dreams.

"I hope there's no woman at the bottom of it," he thought.

"But no; Ward's a fool, but he is a good man." He stopped once, to lift a trailing vine and twist it about a support.
The rain had done great damage in the night: the locust blossoms had been torn from the trees, and the lawn was white with them; the soft, wet petals of the climbing roses were scattered upon the path by the side of the house; and a long branch of honeysuckle, wrenched from its trellis, was prone upon the porch.