customed to sit,
unbuttoned his waistcoat and flannel shirt, and from against his naked
breast took an old, worn daguerreotype. He looked a moment at the
plain, good face reflected there, them, bowing his head upon it,
strong, convulsive sobs shook his frame, though not a tear moistened
his eyes.

How long the paroxysm would have lasted it were hard to say, had not
the impatient whinnying of his horses, still exposed to the storm,
caught his attention. The lifelong habit of caring for the dumb
animals in his charge asserted itself. He went out mechanically,
unharnessed and stabled them as carefully as ever before in his life,
then returned and wearily prepared himself a pot of coffee, which, with
a crust of bread, was all the supper he appeared to crave.

Chapter II.

A Very Interested Friend

For the next few days, Holcroft lived alone. The weather remained
inclement and there was no occasion for him to go farther away than the
barn and outbuildings. He felt that a crisis in his life was
approaching, that he would probably be compelled to sell his property
for what it would bring, and begin life again under different auspices.

"I must either sell or marry," he groaned, "and one's about as hard and
bad as the other. Who'll buy the place and stock at half what they're
worth, and where could I find a woman that would look at an old fellow
like me, even if I could bring myself to look at her?"

The poor man did indeed feel that he was shut up to dreadful
alternatives. With his ignorance of the world, and dislike for contact
with strangers, selling out and going away was virtually starting out
on an unknown sea without rudder or compass. It was worse than
that--it was the tearing up of a life that had rooted itself in the
soil whereon he had been content from childhood to middle age. He
would suffer more in going, and in the memory of what he had parted
with, than in any of the vicissitudes which might overtake him. He had
not much range of imagination or feeling, but within his limitations
his emotions were strong and his convictions unwavering. Still, he
thought it might be possible to live in some vague, unknown place,
doing some kind of work for people with whom he need not have very much
to do. "I've always been my own master, and done things in my own way,"
he muttered, "but I suppose I could farm it to suit some old, quiet
people, if I could only find 'em. One thing is certain, anyhow--I
could