"Lloyd?" some one said, in a low voice; it was Mrs. Richie, waiting

for him inside the gate. William King's face quivered in the darkness.

"That you, Nelly?" Mr. Pryor said;--"no, no; I'll carry my own bag,

thank you. Did a hamper come down on the morning stage? Good! We'll

have something to eat. I hope you haven't got a sick cook this time.

Well, how are you?"

He kissed her, and put his arm around her; then withdrew it, reminding

himself not to be a fool. Yet she was alluring! If only she would be

sensible, there was no reason why things should not be as pleasant as

ever. If she obliged him to pay the piper, Lloyd Pryor was coldly

aware that things would never be pleasant again.

"So many dreadful things have happened!" she burst out; but checked

herself and asked about his journey; "and--and Alice?"

"Oh, pleasant enough, rather chilly. She's well, thank you." And then

they were at the door, and in the bustle of coming in, and taking off

his coat, and saying "Hullo, David! Where's your sling?" disagreeable

topics were postponed. But in the short twilight before the parlor

fire, and at the supper-table, the easy commonplaces of conversation

tingled with the consciousness of the inevitable reappearance of those

same topics. Once, at the table, he looked at her with a frown.

"What's the matter, Nelly? You look old! Have you been sick?"

"Things have happened," she said with an effort; "I've been worried."

"What things?" he said; but before she could reply, Sarah came in with

hot waffles, and the subject was dropped.

"You need more cinnamon with this sugar," Mr. Pryor said with

annoyance. And Helena, flushing with anxiety, told the woman to add

some cinnamon at once. "Oh, never mind now," he said.--"But you ought

to look out for things like that," he added when Sarah had left the

room. And Helena said quickly, that she would; she was so sorry!

"Dr. Lavendar," David announced, "he won't let you say you don't like

things. He says it ain't polite. But I don't like--"

"Dry up! dry up!" Mr. Pryor said irritably; "Helena, this young man

talks too much."

Helena whispered to David to be quiet. She had already arranged with

him that he was not to come into the parlor after supper, which was an

agreeable surprise to him; "For, you know, I don't like your brother,"

he said, "nor neither does Danny." Helena was too absorbed to

remonstrate; she did, however, remember to tell Mr. Pryor that David

had asked if she was coming up to hear him say his prayers.




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