assumed carelessness.

"Why don't ye wait till the lot is finished?" asked Ozias.

"Guess I'll take a half-lot this time," replied Jerome.

Ozias eyed him sharply, but said nothing.

Jerome had in his room a little iron-bound strong-box which had
belonged to his father, though few treasures had poor Abel Edwards
ever had occasion to store in it. After dinner that noon Jerome went
up-stairs, unlocked the strong-box, took out some coins, handling
them carefully lest they jingle, and put them in his leather wallet.
Then he went down-stairs and out the front door as stealthily as if
he had been thieving. Elmira and her mother were at work in the
parlor, and saw him go down the walk and disappear up the road.

"I'll tell you what 'tis," said Mrs. Edwards, with one of her sharp,
confirmatory nods, "J'rome's been takin' out some of that money, an'
he's goin' to Dale to get him some new clothes."

"What makes you think so?"

"Oh, you see if he 'ain't. He 'ain't got a coat nor a vest fit to
wear to that party, an' he knows it. If he's taken some of that money
he's savin' up towards the mortgage I'm glad of it. Folks ought to
have a little somethin' as they go along; if they don't, first thing
they know they'll get past it."

Jerome did not start for Dale until it was quite late in the
afternoon, working hard meanwhile in the shop. The day was another of
those typical ones of early spring, which had come lately, drooping
as to every leaf and bud with that hot languor which forces bloom.
The door and windows of the little shop were set wide open. The honey
and spice-breaths of flowers mingled with the rank effluvia of
leather like a delicate melody with a harsh bass. Jerome pegged along
in silence with knitted brow, yet with a restraint of smiles on his
lips.

Ozias Lamb also was silent; his old face bending over his work was a
concentration of moody gloom. Ozias was not as outspoken as formerly
concerning his bitter taste of life, possibly because it had reached
his soul. Jerome sometimes wondered if his uncle had troubles that he
did not know of. He started for Dale so late that it was after sunset
when he returned with a great parcel under his arm. He felt strangely
tired, and just before he reached Upham village he sat down on a
stone wall, laid his parcel carefully at his side, and looked about
him.

The spring dusk was gathering slowly, though at first through an
enhanced clearness of upper lights. All the gloom