; for, though his slight concussion was not exactly alarming-yet, "Keep your shirt on," Doctor Bennett cautioned him; "don't get gay. And don't talk to Mrs. Curtis." So Maurice l

ejoiced like a strong man to run a race! She saw no confession in the fact that everybody was ast

h said; she offered this explanation the day that Maurice had been

of that terrible night had blanched and withered her f

m, said under her breath: "G

her, it seemed as if she drank youth from his lip

g his thick hair with her trembling hand, and t

. To think that you-" He h

rth, has looked upon her child. She was entirely happy. From the open door of Maurice's room came, now and then, the murmur of Edith's honest little voice, or Maurice's chuckle. They were talking abou

her what a goose I am abou

red-and her eyes shon

ing but a silly story of Edith's hens. He repeated it, and Elea

t Eleanor had done for him! Thinking of it, he brooded over her, silently, his cheek against hers, then Mrs. Hough

m, he told poor faithful Edith her voice was too

not reach those languid ears. Then, suddenly, all her chances to talk stopped: "What's the matter with Maurice?" she pondered, crossly; "he's backed out of

stion of convalascing at Green Hill without him! Consequently Maurice, when not worshiping his wife, had nothing to do, and Edith had seized the opportunity to make him useful.... "We'll shingle my henhouse," she had announced. Maurice liked the scheme as much as she did. The September air, the smell of the fresh shingles, the sitting with one leg doubled under you, an

to do it," Edith said, im

well enough to do it," he said-and then burst into self-derisive chuckle

d the fact that that same afternoon, sitting on the floor in the Bride's room, she had, in her anxiety to be entertaining, repeated Maurice

e it. Horrid,

, clean work," Ed

sfaction; "you'd be scared! You're scared of everything, M

r was

rice," said Edith, thoughtfully; "he doesn't like it when I'm sca

's cheeks: "Edith, I'll rest n

she said; "what's the matter? Are you mad at anyt

But-but I wish you'd tell Mau

him, reading and smoking in a hammock slung between two of the big columns on the east porch, she ru

aurice was tearing upstair

ith, sulkily, worked

morning, before Edith was awake, he had gone out to the hen

Edith protested, when she discovered wha

it by myself,"

ause he's married! Well, I don't care. He can shingle the whole

ails in his mouth, and to sit on the cold, slippery shingles in t

ike his thought

g-and found her sitting up in bed, her cheeks red and glazed with tears, her round, full chin quivering. He th

Edith I wa

full of stumbling questions

ith, "You said I am scared!" Maurice could

am a fool, but

t Scott!

rude as she was!-and she's a child. How can you like to be with a child?" Of course, it was all her fear of Youth,-but Eleanor did not know that; she

d-that way." He put a shingle in its place, and planted a nail; "it was because she was scared that what she did was so brave! I couldn't make her see that the more scared she was, the braver she was. It wouldn't have been brave in that gump, Edith, without a

ause he had finally got mad, and answered back, and said, "Don't be silly!" The real misery was something far deeper than this half-amuse

y people did not feel. Saying this, and fitting the shingles into place, suddenly the warm and happy wave of confident idealism began to flood in upon him, and immediately his mind as well as his heart was satisfied. He reproached himself for having been scared lest his star was just a common candle, like himself. He had been cruel to judge her, as he might have judged her had she been well-or a gump like Edith! For had she been well, she would not have been "silly"! Had she been well-instead of lying there in her bed, white and strained and trembling, all because she had save

down on Edith; she has always appreciated her!" Edith had never said that Eleanor was "silly"! But so long as it bothered Eleanor (bein

shingled his part of the

leanor had done the worst possible thing, "magnificently"-told Maurice she had "nervous prostration,"-a cloaking phrase which kindly doctors often give to perplexed husbands, so that the egotism of sickly wives may be covered up! So Maurice, repeating to himself these useful words, saw only ill health, not silline

ndays," Maurice comf

y person he had seen, while he was away from her! But the rest of the household didn't get much enjoyment out of Eleanor. Even the adoring Edith had moments when admiration had to be propped up by Doctor Bennet

e all day," Eleanor sa

her, but he had always helped

said; "but I don't see how you can enjoy

p, slow poke!"-that he was happy again before he knew it. After the work was over they had a lazy hour before the fire, their eyes stinging with smoke which seemed to envelop them, no matt

Edith said; "I'd just love

h a place in the Adventures, or to assent to Edith's ecstasies; but onc

l she'd just about died for you, like pe

urice said

m; Johnny standing up, balancing himself by holding on to their shoulders, and old Rover jogging along on the footpath

ore Lion could quite stop, he was at his wife's side. "Eleanor! How did you

so late. I was afraid something ha

n Edith called out: "Why, Eleanor! I w

ith all sorts of gentlenesses: "Dear, you mustn't worry so! Nelly, don't cry; why, da

you had Edith, you never thought how I mi

ice, "would you and Johnny mind getting out and walking? I'll

blic! was the shyness of a child in meeting a stranger-for that crying woman was practically a stranger. She wasn't the Bride-silent and lovely! At Johnny's gate she said, briefly, "'Night!" and went on, running-running in the dusk. When she reached the house, and found her father and mother on the east porch, she was breathless, which accounted fo

ugh the pantry and up the back stairs. She didn't know why she fled. She only knew that she couldn't face Eleanor, who would sit with Maurice while he bolted a supper for wh

to old Rover-so she really did not know enough to use it now to describe Eleanor's behavior. She only said, "Maybe it's the nervous prostration? Well, I don't like her very much. I'm glad she won't be at Fern Hill when I go there." To be

sis lessened very visibly Edith's childishness; also, it made her rather rudely cold to Eleanor, whose effort to reinstate hersel

at me yesterday-why isn't sh

mpt. "I don't care for Edith," she

y a child,

res of his love into such a glory of devotion, that Edith was practically nonexistent! His one thought was to take Eleanor to Mercer. He wanted her all to himself! Also, he had a vague purpose of being on his dignity with a lot of those Mercer peopl

elief in getting away from Green Hill. The relief was general. Edith felt it, which was very unlike

n said, "is exactly like a drum

e sound," Mrs. Houghton remin

ious thing about it is that it will bore any man to death. Point that out to her, Mary! Tell her that jealousy is self-love, plus the consciousness of your own inferior

tter one-and briefer: 'Jealousy is Human Natur'! But I don't believe Eleanor's jealous, Henry; she'

he phrase!) started for Mercer. "Come out into the orchard," Mary Hough

r the banisters, doubtfully; "he's a perfect boy a

eanor yielded, scolding happily while she pi

d looked over at the dark mass of the mountain, behind which a red sun was trampling waist deep through l

l, just at first," she said; "Auntie says I don't know anything about keeping house, a

pped and bit her lip; the "baby" had been gone for nearly twenty years, but he was still her little boy-"I was very forlorn, and I couldn't do anything, or go anywhere; and Henry stayed at home with me like a saint.

is," Maurice's wi

the idea that you are any-well, older than he is. A wife might be fifty years older t

very well. "The only thing in the world I wan

ed in putting some last things into her trunk, and, going over to M

bet I

t said so o

Star, won't it be wonderful when we can go away from

ust to be alone with you. I wish w

ched him), Henry Houghton, listening to his Mary's account of the talk in the orchard, told her what he thought of her: "May you be forgiven!

st an old glove-shabby, maybe; but if the hand inside the glove is alive, what real difference does the shabbiness make? If Eleanor's mind doesn't get rh

the whole ke

alous, I saw her frown when he was playing checkers with Edith. I wanted to tell her, but didn't dare

it, in re tobacco. As for Eleanor, I would never have such cruel thoughts