atural. Slinn, looking at his brightened eye and fresher
color, could not help thinking he was more like his own real self at
this moment than in his counting-house and offices--with all his
simplicity as a capitalist. A less abstracted and more observant
critic than Slinn would have seen in this patient aptitude for real
work, and the recognition of the force of petty detail, the dominance
of the old market-gardener in his former humble, as well as his later
more ambitious, successes.

"Heaven keep us from being dependent upon our children!" said Slinn,
darkly.

"Let the young ones alone to-night; we can get along without them, as
they can without us," said Mulrady, with a slight twinge as he thought
of his reflections on the hillside. "But look here, there's some
champagne and them sweet cordials that women like; there's jellies and
such like stuff, about as good as they make 'em, I reckon; and
preserves, and tongues, and spiced beef--take your pick! Stop, let's
spread them out." He dragged the table to the middle of the floor, and
piled the provisions upon it. They certainly were not deficient in
quality or quantity. "Now, Slinn, wade in."

"I don't feel hungry," said the invalid, who had lapsed again into a
chair before the fire.

"No more do I," said Mulrady; "but I reckon it's the right thing to do
about this time. Some folks think they can't be happy without they're
getting outside o' suthin', and my directors down at 'Frisco can't do
any business without a dinner. Take some champagne, to begin with."

He opened a bottle, and filled two tumblers. "It's past twelve
o'clock, old man, so here's a merry Christmas to you, and both of us ez
is here. And here's another to our families--ez isn't."

They both drank their wine stolidly. The rain beat against the windows
sharply, but without the hollow echoes of the house on the hill. "I
must write to the old woman and Mamie, and say that you and me had a
high old time on Christmas Eve."

"By ourselves," added the invalid.

Mr. Mulrady coughed. "Nat'rally--by ourselves. And her provisions,"
he added, with a laugh. "We're really beholden to HER for 'em. If she
hadn't thought of having them--"

"For somebody else, you wouldn't have had them--would you?" said Slinn,
slowly, gazing at the fire.

"No," said Mulrady, dubiously. After a pause he began more
vivaciously, and as if to shake off some disagreeable thought that was
impressing him, "But I m