etter from Henry, and when they put it into his
hands, he smiled and was content. He hadn't the strength to open it,
and he wouldn't let anyone else touch it; he was satisfied to know
that Henry had written. And after that, there was nothing worth
waiting for.

CHAPTER IV

It never occurred to Henry, when he came home in late July, to take
his wife to the big brick house which had been his uncle's. He didn't
know whether the house would go to Aunt Mirabelle or to himself, and
for the time being, it was immaterial; Aunt Mirabelle was welcome to
possession of it, undisturbed. Except for his uncle, there would have
been open warfare between them long ago; now that the arbitrator was
gone, war was inevitable, but Henry wouldn't fight on sacred ground.
He preferred to accept the hospitality of Judge Barklay. The Judge's
house was a third the size, and not the least prepossessing, and there
really wasn't room for the young Devereuxs in it, but as soon as you
stepped inside the door, you knew that you were welcome.

He was sorry for his aunt, and he went to see her immediately, but
even in this new situation, she let him know that she disapproved of
him thoroughly and permanently. She wasn't reconciled to his
marriage; she didn't care to receive Anna; she implied that regardless
of Mr. Starkweather's express wishes, Henry was a stony-hearted
ingrate for remaining so long abroad. To be sure, his presence at home
would have served no purpose whatsoever, but Mirabelle was firm in her
opinion. More than that, she succeeded in making Henry feel that by
his conduct he had hurried his uncle into an untimely grave; she
didn't say this flatly, nor yet by innuendo, but she managed to convey
it through the atmosphere.

"Of course," she said, "you've been to call on Mr. Archer, haven't
you?"

Henry flushed indignantly. "I hadn't even thought about it."

"Well, when you do, you'll hear some fine news." Her lip curled. "Your
friend Bob Standish's bought the business. Some of it, anyway. Bought
it on a shoestring's _my_ guess,--but he's bought it."

"I didn't know it, Aunt Mirabelle."

"Well, they only closed the deal a few days ago."

"Good for Bob!" He was thinking that if honest toil were demanded of
him, nothing could be more pleasant than an alliance with this same
Standish. His uncle had always offered up Standish, subtly, as an
illustration of what Henry himself ought to be. And it was a tribute
to the mutual affec