trouble
to learn it. Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote it, and I'll warrant him for
a good, cheerful, trust-in-God man, or he'd never have thought of such
sensible words."

"I am listening, Granny, for the verse."

"Yes, and learn it yourself. It will come in handy some day, when Tyrrel
and you are getting white-haired and handsome, as everyone ought to get
when they have passed their half-century and are facing the light of the
heavenly world:

"At sixty-two life has begun;
At seventy-three begins once more;
Fly swifter as thou near'st the sun,
And brighter shine at eighty-four.
At ninety-five,
Should thou arrive,
Still wait on God, and work and thrive."

Such words as those, Ethel, keep a woman young, and make her right glad
that she was born and thankful that she lives."

"Thank you for them, dear Granny. Now I must run away as fast as I can.
Tyrrel will be wondering what has happened to me."

In this conjecture she was right. Tyrrel was in evening dress, and
walking restlessly about their private parlor. "Ethel," he said,
plaintively, "I have been so uneasy about you."

"I am all right, dearest. I was with grandmother. I shall be ready in
half an hour."

Even if she had been longer, she would have earned the delay, for she
returned to him in pink silk and old Venice point de rose, with a pretty
ermine tippet across her shoulders. It was a joy to see her, a delight
to hear her speak, and she walked as if she heard music. The dining-room
was crowded when they entered, but they made a sensation. Many rose
and came to welcome them home. Others smiled across the busy space and
lifted their wineglass in recognition. The room was electric, sensitive
and excited. It was flooded with a soft light; it was full of the
perfume of flowers. The brilliant coloring of silks and satins, and the
soft miracle of white lace blended with the artistically painted walls
and roof. The aroma of delicate food, the tinkle of crystal, the low
murmur of happy voices, the thrill of sudden laughter, and the delicious
accompaniment of soft, sensuous music completed the charm of the room.
To eat in such surroundings was as far beyond the famous flower-crowned
feasts of Rome and Greece as the east is from the west. It was
impossible to resist its influence. From the point of the senses, the
soul was drinking life out of a cup of overflowing delight. And it was
only natural that in their hearts both