lock of geese that laid golden eggs.

To be sure, it was pleasant coming home into an atmosphere of sincerity,
of worship--was it not? It was very flattering to his self-esteem. The
master had come! The house was in commotion. Edith flew to meet him,
hugged him, shook him, criticised his appearance, rallied him for a
recreant father. How well she looked-buoyant, full of vivacity, running
over with joy, asking a dozen questions before he could answer one,
testifying her delight, her affection, in a hundred ways. And the boy!
He was so eager to see his papa. He could converse now--that is, in his
way. And that prodigy, when Jack was dragged into his presence, and also
fell down with Edith and worshiped him in his crib, did actually smile,
and appear to know that this man belonged to him, was a part of his
worldly possessions.

"Do you know," said Edith, looking at the boy critically, "I think of
making Fletcher a present, if you approve."

"What's that?"

"He'll want some place to go to in the summer. I want to buy that old
place where he was born and give it to him. Don't you think it would be
a good investment?"

"Yes, permanent," replied Jack, laughing at such a mite of a real-estate
owner.

"I know he would like it. And you don't object?"

"Not in the least. It's next to an ancestral feeling to be the father of
a land-owner."

They were standing close to the crib, his arm resting lightly across
her shoulders. He drew her closer to him, and kissed her tenderly. "The
little chap has a golden-hearted mother. I don't know why he should not
have a Golden House."

Her eyes filled with sudden tears. She could not speak. But both arms
were clasped round his neck now. She was too happy for words. And the
baby, looking on with large eyes, seemed to find nothing unusual in
the proceeding. He was used to a great deal of this sort of nonsense
himself.

It was a happy evening. In truth, after the first surprise, Jack was
pleased with this contemplated purchase. It was something removed beyond
temptation. Edith's property was secure to her, and it was his honorable
purpose never to draw it into his risks. But he knew her generosity, and
he could not answer for himself if she should offer it, as he was sure
she would do, to save him from ruin.

There was all the news to tell, the harmless gossip of daily life, which
Edith had a rare faculty of making dramatically entertaining, with her
insight and her feeling for comed