ia considered much handsomer. She
would have had ambitions in that direction also, but Henry was firm
in his resolve not to have the mirror displaced, nor the vases,
although Sylvia descanted upon the superior merits of some vases with
gilded pedestals which Mrs. Sam Elliot had in her parlor.

Meeks regarded the superb old table with appreciation as he sat in
the sitting-room after supper. "Fine old piece," he said.

Henry looked at it doubtfully. It had been in a woodshed of his
grandfather's house, when he was a boy, and he was not as confident
about that as he was about the mirror and vases, which had always
maintained their parlor estate.

"Sylvia don't think much of it," he said. "She's crazy to have one of
carved oak like one Mrs. Jim Jones has."

"Carved oak fiddlestick!" said Sidney Meeks. "It's a queer thing that
so much virtue and real fineness of character can exist in a woman
without the slightest trace of taste for art."

Henry looked resentful. "Sylvia has taste, as much taste as most
women," he said. "She simply doesn't like to see the same old things
around all the time, and I don't know as I blame her. The world has
grown since that table was made, there's no doubt about that. It
stands to reason furniture has improved, too."

"Glad there's something you see in a bright light, Henry."

"I must say that I like this new mission furniture, myself, pretty
well," said Henry, somewhat importantly.

"That's as old as the everlasting hills; but the old that's new is
the newest thing in all creation," said Meeks. "Sylvia is a foolish
woman if she parts with this magnificent old piece for any
reproduction made in job lots."

"Oh, she isn't going to part with it. Mr. Allen will like it in his
room. He thinks as much of it as you do."

"He's right, too," said Meeks. "There's carving for you; there's a
fine grain of wood."

"It's very hard to keep clean," said Sylvia, as she came in rubbing
her moist hands. "Now, that new Flemish oak is nothing at all to take
care of, Mrs. Jones says."

"This is worth taking care of," said Meeks. "Now, Sylvia, sit down. I
have something to tell you and Henry."

Sylvia sat down. Something in the lawyer's manner aroused hers and
her husband's keenest attention. They looked at him and waited. Both
were slightly pale. Sylvia was a delicate little woman, and Henry was
large-framed and tall, but a similar experience had worn similar
lines in both faces. They looked singul