Soon John settled himself in my easy chair, and then one saw how very weary he was--weary in body and soul alike--weary as we seldom beheld him.

It went to my heart to watch the listless stretch of his large, strong frame--the sharp lines about his mouth--lines which ought not to have come there in his two-and-thirty years.

And his eyes--they hardly looked like John's eyes, as they gazed in a sort of dull quietude, too anxious to be dreamy, into the red coals--and nowhere else.
At last he roused himself, and took up his wife's work.
"More little coats! Love, you are always sewing." "Mothers must--you know.

And I think never did boys outgrow their things like our boys.

It is pleasant, too.