first shock of the adventure having passed, it was amazing to see with
what rapidity the Howe sisters increased the warmth of their welcome. From
the top shelf in the pantry they brought forth the _company preserves_;
fruit cake was unearthed from the big stone crock in the dining-room
closet; and, as a final touch to the feast, Jane beat up a foamy omelet
and a prune whip. In their enjoyment they were like a group of children,
an undercurrent of delight in the forbidden tinging their mirth.

Lucy told stories of her western life, and the three women listened as if
to the tales of Sir John Mandeville. The hours passed, twilight deepened,
night fell, but the revelers heeded it not. What a sweet, wholesome
evening it was! And how kindly, Lucy thought, were these simple souls
whose feeling toward every breathing creature was so benign and
sympathetic. Contrasted with the antagonistic atmosphere of the Webster
house, this home was like paradise. It restored her faith in human nature
and in Sefton Falls. Every one in the place was not, then, bitter and
suspicious. What a comfort to know it!

In the meantime Mary, having reached a pitch of hilarity almost
unprecedented, was starting to tell a story when suddenly her face
stiffened and, turning white, she half rose from her chair.

There was a scuffling of feet in the hall and in another instant Martin
Howe entered.

"The fair wasn't worth my stayin' to," he explained from the doorsill, "so
I came along home to-night instead of waitin' till to-morrow. Looks to me
as if I was just in time for a snack of supper."

Standing in the lamplight, his stern face softened by a smile and a glow
of good humor, he was attractive to look upon. The firm countenance was
lined, it is true, but the lines gave it strength and brought into harmony
the clear eyes, resolute mouth, and well-molded chin. He had a fine
smooth forehead from which his black hair, lightly sprinkled with gray,
was tossed aside in picturesque abandon. Health and power spoke in every
curve of the lithe frame and in the boyish grace with which he moved.

With his coming a hush fell upon the room. Had a group of conspirators
been unexpectedly confronted with their own crimes, they could not have
been more abashed than were the four women seated at the table.

Jane was the first to recover herself. In a voice that trembled but did
not falter she said courageously:

"Miss Lucy Webster's havin' tea with us, Martin."

T