The worn carpet, the faded curtains,
Abner's easy chair, his pipe upon the corner of the mantelpiece beside
the vase of spills.

"It is curious," he said, "finding this vein of fancy, of tenderness in
you. I always regarded you as such a practical, unsentimental young
person."

"Perhaps we neither of us knew each other too well, in those days," she
answered.

The small servant entered with the tea.

"What have you been doing with yourself?" he asked, drawing his chair
up to the table.

She waited till the small servant had withdrawn.

"Oh, knocking about," she answered. "Earning my living."

"It seems to have agreed with you," he repeated, smiling.

"It's all right now," she answered. "It was a bit of a struggle at
first."

"Yes," he agreed. "Life doesn't temper the wind to the human lamb. But
was there any need in your case?" he asked. "I thought--"

"Oh, that all went," she explained. "Except the house."

"I'm sorry," said Matthew. "I didn't know."

"Oh, we have been a couple of pigs," she laughed, replying to his
thoughts. "I did sometimes think of writing you. I kept the address
you gave me. Not for any assistance; I wanted to fight it out for
myself. But I was a bit lonely."

"Why didn't you?" he asked.

She hesitated for a moment.

"It's rather soon to make up one's mind," she said, "but you seem to me
to have changed. Your voice sounds so different. But as a boy--well,
you were a bit of a prig, weren't you? I imagined you writing me good
advice and excellent short sermons. And it wasn't that that I was
wanting."

"I think I understand," he said. "I'm glad you got through.

"What is your line?" he asked. "Journalism?"

"No," she answered. "Too self-opinionated."

She opened a bureau that had always been her own and handed him a
programme. "Miss Ann Kavanagh, Contralto," was announced on it as one
of the chief attractions.

"I didn't know you had a voice," said Matthew.

"You used to complain of it," she reminded him.

"Your speaking voice," he corrected her. "And it wasn't the quality of
that I objected to. It was the quantity."

She laughed.

"Yes, we kept ourselves pretty busy bringing one another up," she
admitted.

They talked a while longer: of Abner and his kind, quaint ways; of old
friends. Ann had lost touch with most of them. She had studied
singing in Brussels, and afterwards her master had moved to London and
she had followed him. She had only