ere laughing and
absorbed, when James Senior came in a few minutes later, and found them.

"Jim," said his wife, eagerly, rising to greet him, and to bring him,
cold and ruddy, to the fireplace, "this is Mr. Rideout, dear!"

"How do you do, sir?" said Jim, stretching out his hand, and with a
smile on his tired, keen, young face. "Don't get up. I see that my boy
is making himself at home."

"Yes, sir; we've been having a great time getting undressed," said the
visitor.

"Jim," Anne went on radiantly, "Mr. Rideout and HIS wife lived here
years ago, when THEY were just married, and their children were born
here too!"

"No--is that so!" Jim was as much pleased and surprised as Anne, as he
settled himself with Virginia's web of silky hair against his shoulder.
"Built it, perhaps, Mr. Rideout?"

"No. No, it was eight or ten years old, then. I used to pass it,
walking to the office. We had a little office down on Meig's pier then.
As a matter of fact, my wife never saw it until I brought her home to
it. She was the only child of a widow, very formal Southern people, and
we weren't engaged very long. So my brother and I furnished the house;
used--" his eyes twinkled--"used to buy our pictures in a lump. We
decided we needed about four to each room, and we'd go to a dealer's,
and pick out a dozen of 'em, and ask him to make us a price!"

"Just like men!" said the woman.

"I suppose so. I know that some of those pictures disappeared after
Rose had been here a while! And we had linen curtains--"

"Not linen!" protested Anne.

"Very--pretty--little--ruffled--curtains they were," he affirmed
seriously. "Linen, with blue bands, in this bedroom, and red bands
upstairs. And things--things--" he made a vague gesture--"things on the
dressing-tables and bed to match 'em! I remember that on our wedding
day, when I brought Rose home, we had a little maid here, and dinner
was all ready, but no, Rose must run up and down stairs looking at
everything in her little wedding dress--" Suddenly came another pause.
The room was dark now, but for the firelight. Little Jinny was asleep
in her father's arms, Diego blinking manfully. Neither husband nor
wife, whose hands had found each other, cared to break the silence. But
after a while Anne said:

"What WAS her wedding dress?"

Instantly roused, the guest raised bright, pleased eyes.

"The ladies' question, Warriner," said he. "It was silk, my dear, her
first silk gown. Yellowish, or