times, the daughter puts her head upon his shoulder and
often wipes her tears away upon his coat and they are silent until he
can begin again. When his throat cramps, she pats his cheek and they sit
dreaming for a time and the dreams they dream and the dreams they read
differ only in that the poetry is made with words.

It is a proud night for Margaret Mueller. She has come into a new
world--the world of her deep desire. Mrs. Nesbit sees the girl's
wandering eyes, taking note of the furniture, as one making an
inventory. No article of the vast array of vases and jars and plaques
and jugs and statuettes and grotesque souvenirs of far journeys across
the world, nor etchings nor steel engravings nor photographs of Roman
antiquities nor storied urns nor animated busts escapes the wandering,
curious brown eyes of the girl. But in her vast wonderment, though her
eyes wander far and wide, they never are too far to flash back betimes
at Henry Fenn's who drinks from the woman's eyes as from a deep and
bewitching well. He does not see that she is staring. But as the minutes
speed, he knows that he is electrified with alternating currents from
her glowing face and that they bring to him a rapture that he has never
known before.

But you may be sure of one thing: Mrs. Nesbit--she that was
Satterthwaite of the Maryland Satterthwaites--she sees what is in the
wind. She is not wearing gold-rimmed nose glasses for her health. Her
health is exceptionally good. And what is more to the point, as they are
singing, Mrs. Nesbit gives George Brotherton a look--one of the genuine
old Satterthwaite looks that speak volumes, and in effect it tells him
that if he has any sense, he will take Henry Fenn home before he makes a
fool of himself. And the eldest Miss Morton, swinging her legs under the
piano stool and drumming away to Mrs. Nesbit's one- and two- and
three- and four-ands, peeps out of the corners of her eyes and sees Miss
Mueller gobbling Mr. Fenn right down without chewing him, and whoopee but
Mrs. Nesbit is biting nails, and Mr. Brotherton, he can't hardly keep his
face straight from laughing at all, and if Ruth and Martha ever tell she
will never tell them another thing in the world. And she mustn't forget
to ask Mrs. Nesbit if she's used the Peerless Cooker and if she has,
will she please say something nice about it to Mrs. Ahab Wright, for
Papa is so anxious to sell one to the Wrights!

It is nearly nine o'clock. Mr. Fenn has bee