e of this living-room as a bedchamber also, since
Thomas Macy confessed to "bein rather tender," and to liking a warm
room to sleep In, though his neighbors often insinuated that he was
killing himself by the Indulgence. And indeed the heat must have been
stifling when we consider the size of the fireplace, nine feet wide by
four deep, with a yawning throat, through which the rain poured freely
down on stormy nights, putting out the best arranged mass of coals,
ashes and peat, and, in spite of the little gutter purposely made
round the broad brick hearth, sometimes overflowing and drenching
a portion of the neat rag carpet, in which, with true Quaker
consistency, no gay-colored fragment had been allowed a place.

In striking contrast to all this magnificence was the lowly home to
which James Starbuck brought his happy bride. This little house was
"double" also--that Is, it was entered in the centre by a small square
passage just big enough for the outer door to swing in. On one side
of this entry was a tiny parlor, as dismal as rag carpet, fireless
hearth, dingy paper and dark-green paper shades to the small windows
could make it. On the other side of the entry was the tiny and cold
bedroom of the senior Starbucks. In the centre of the house rose a
massive chimney, big enough to retain all the heat from a dozen fires.
Across the rear of parlor, chimney and bedroom ran the long, low
sunshiny kitchen. At one end of this certain ladder-like stairs
conducted to the loft, which had served Jim for a "roosting-place"
ever since he had grown big enough to be trusted o' nights so far
away from his mother. On Sarah's advent into the family the
dismal "best-room" was made habitable by the addition of a
"four-poster"--which Mrs. Starbuck senior regretted was only of
cherry-wood and not carved--and by sundry little feminine contrivances
of Sarah's own.

I said that for a time all seemed to go on happily in this humble
home. And the seeming would have been reality had Jim possessed the
faith in his wife which she had in him. True, he loved and believed in
her after his fashion, and his mother was a strong ally on his wife's
side; but Jim had one fatal weakness of character. He resented the
slightest look that was anything but simple admiration on the part of
his wife. A strong nature is not afraid of censure, but a weak one,
pleading sensitiveness, is easily roused to small retaliations,
repaying what is good in intention with what