ckshaws and folderols! No flummery, that leaves a
man tired and hungry when he leaves the table. Food, my dear madam, is
one of the blessings--what was it this Boy said about food the other
day, Raymond? Hugh, you understand, Mrs. Grahame; more and more
astonishing that child grows, as he grows older. He was disappointed the
other day,--Hildegarde could not come as he expected, or something
happened,--hum, ha! And he was distressed; a good deal distressed. Then
he ate his supper,--ate it like a man, and I told him so, sir, and
congratulated him on keeping his appetite. He looks up at me, and says
he, 'Food stops sorrow!' His very expression, give you my word! Food
stops sorrow! Ha, ha! so it does, my dear madam, so it does! This way,
if you please! Hildegarde, my child, you will bring the Boy? He is--hum,
ha!--not quite up to concert pitch to-night. Nothing much the
matter,--growing boys, eh, Mrs. Grahame? Come on, all hands!"

Well, the supper was great, and the games were glorious. Hildegarde did
her very best to appear just as usual, and, indeed, no one who had seen
her flying down the long drawing-room in the Virginia reel (the Colonel
had engaged her for it a month before) would have thought her anything
but the gayest of the gay; but, happy though she was, the world still
seemed misty, the rooms confused, the talk mere babble; and she was
glad, for once, when the frolic was over, and the greetings said, and
she was at home once more, in her own quiet room.

There was a cosy little fire burning on the hearth, and late though it
was, Hildegarde was in no mood for going to bed. She sat down by the
window and looked out. The snow lay clear and white in the moonlight;
here and there the dark evergreens rose like steadfast guardians; all
was peaceful and lovely. Lovely! How brown and handsome he looked! And
had he really been glad to see her? She thought so; yes, surely he was
glad, only somebody interrupted him every time he came near her. Of
course, selfish creature that she was! They were his own dear people, he
was theirs; he belonged to them. They had not seen him for months, and
how preposterous of her to expect to have any of his time the very first
evening. Besides, he said particularly that he was coming in the
morning. Would the day be fair? But men did not mind weather, certainly
not the Merryweather men. And--and her mother would be so glad to have a
good talk with him.

Were they all asleep now, the good,