What more could a man want, or should he want? It
was rather mean in him, able to give his wife and children everything
they wanted, to be wanting anything more. He laid down the print
gently, after dusting its glass and frame with his silk handkerchief,
and slowly left the room.

The drum-beat of the rain followed him down the staircase, but he shut
it out with his other thoughts, when he again closed the door of his
office. He set diligently to work by the declining winter light, until
he was interrupted by the entrance of his Chinese waiter to tell him
that supper--which was the meal that Mulrady religiously adhered to in
place of the late dinner of civilization--was ready in the dining-room.
Mulrady mechanically obeyed the summons; but on entering the room the
oasis of a few plates in a desert of white table-cloth which awaited
him made him hesitate. In its best aspect, the high dark Gothic
mahogany ecclesiastical sideboard and chairs of this room, which looked
like the appointments of a mortuary chapel, were not exhilarating; and
to-day, in the light of the rain-filmed windows and the feeble rays of
a lamp half-obscured by the dark shining walls, it was most depressing.

"You kin take up supper into my office," said Mulrady, with a sudden
inspiration. "I'll eat it there."

He ate it there, with his usual healthy appetite, which did not require
even the stimulation of company. He had just finished, when his Irish
cook--the one female servant of the house--came to ask permission to be
absent that evening and the next day.

"I suppose the likes of your honor won't be at home on the Christmas
Day? And it's me cousins from the old counthry at Rough-and-Ready that
are invitin' me."

"Why don't you ask them over here?" said Mulrady, with another vague
inspiration. "I'll stand treat."

"Lord preserve you for a jinerous gintleman! But it's the likes of
them and myself that wouldn't be at home here on such a day."

There was so much truth in this that Mulrady checked a sigh as he gave
the required permission, without saying that he had intended to remain.
He could cook his own breakfast: he had done it before; and it would be
something to occupy him. As to his dinner, perhaps he could go to the
hotel at Rough-and-Ready. He worked on until the night had well
advanced. Then, overcome with a certain restlessness that disturbed
him, he was forced to put his books and papers away. It had begun to
blow in fit