ace in the doorway,
looking rested and less faded for the week passed in the society of a
simple, noble man; the father's gay and debonair, as Amy remembered
it--how long ago, was it? And last of all Friend Adam, in gray attire,
his broadbrim crowning his snowy hair, his expression one of childlike
happiness and freedom from care.

He welcomed them both with all heartiness, but Amy was dearest. She had
always been, perhaps because she bore the name of his long dead wife,
and had always seemed to stand as a child to his childless life.

So after the fine supper was over, while before a blazing fire in
another room Mr. and Mrs. Kaye discussed with Hallam all the events of
the past week, Amy and the old man who had lived for more than eighty
years a blameless, helpful life sat by a window in another place and
looked out into the moonlight saying little, but enjoying all.

"Dear father Adam, shall I tell thee"--for with him she always drifted
into the sweet speech which was hers by birthright and his for all his
life--"shall I tell thee how it seems to me, as if thee had learned
every single lesson life and God has had to teach. Thee has had poverty
and sorrow, and endured the wrong that others have done thee. Thee has
seen thy kindred go away and leave thee alone. It is just like a good
soldier who has been in a thick fight and a sailor who has swam in deep
waters, but has come out safe on the other side. Thee is so calm and
happy, like Mrs. Jones's little Belinda, who sits in the sun and sings
and croons to herself, with never a plaything or anything good about her
except her own serene happiness. Isn't it?"

"Maybe, child. It may be. It should be, certainly. There should be no
care in either extreme of life. _Both ends are so close to the Father's
house._

"Thee is right though, about the middle of life, little Amy. It is a
time of struggle and rebuff."

"But to-night it seems as if it could never have been so with thee. Tell
me, father Adam, how thee has kept thyself so simple and good."

"Nay, little one, not that. Simple, indeed, but not good. There is none
good but One. Yet there are certain things that help. I'll tell thee
what has helped me most, that is, in my daily life in the world, from
which we can never escape while the heart beats."

The dear old man rose, limped toward an ancient secretary, and took from
it a small book. Just an ordinary account book, ruled for the keeping of
small affairs, but arr