nd past the reflection of the warm, bright room. Now she
could see, since the light was in the room where she sat, her father
beside the table reading his paper, and shadowy images of all the
familiar things projecting themselves like a mirage of home into the
night and storm. Ellen could see, even without turning round, that
her father looked very sober, and did not seem to be much interested
in his paper, and a vague sense of calamity oppressed her. She did
not know just what might be involved in Lloyd's shutting down, but
she saw that her father and aunt were disturbed, and her imaginings
were half eclipsed by a shadow of material things. Ellen dearly
loved this early evening hour when she could stare out into the
mystery of the night, herself sheltered under the wing of home, and
the fancies which her childish brain wove were as a garment of
spirit for the future; but to-night she did not dream so much as she
wondered and reflected. Pretty soon Ellen saw a man's figure
plodding through the fast-gathering snow, and heard her aunt Eva
make a soft, heavy rush down the front stairs, and she knew the man
was Jim Tenny, and her aunt had been watching for him. Ellen
wondered why she had watched up in her cold room, why she had not
sat down-stairs where it was warm, and let Jim ring the door-bell.
Ellen liked Jim Tenny, but there was often that in her aunt's eyes
regarding him which made Ellen look past him and above him to see if
there was another man there. Ellen heard the fire crackling in the
parlor-stove, and saw the light shining under the parlor threshold,
and heard the soft hum of voices. Her mother, having finished
washing up the supper dishes, came in presently and seated herself
beside the lamp with her needle-work.

"You don't feel any wind comin' in the window?" she said, anxiously,
to Ellen.

"No, ma'am," replied Ellen.

Andrew looked up quickly. "You're sure you don't?" he said.

"No, sir."

Ellen watched her mother sewing out in the snowy yard, then a dark
shadow came between the reflection and the window, then another. Two
men treading in the snow in even file, one in the other's
foot-tracks, came into the yard.

"Somebody's comin'," said Ellen, as a knock, came on the side door.

"Did you see who 'twas?" Fanny asked, starting up.

"Two men."

"It's somebody to see you, Andrew," Fanny said, and Andrew tossed
his paper on the table and went to the door.

When the door was opened Ellen heard a m