he warp and woof of his life--and he was
determined on getting the utmost out of each. His interest in his home
circle may somewhat have declined--or at least have moderated--with
advancing years, but it was incandescent now. His interest in the
outside world--that oyster-bin awaiting his knife--never slackened, not
even when the futility of piling up the empty shells became
daylight-clear, and when higher things strove perseveringly, even
unmistakably, to beckon him on. Never, in fact, throughout his life did
he exhibit more than two essential concerns: one for his family and
clan; and one for the great outside mass of mediocre individuals through
whose ineptitudes he justly expected to profit.

Well, the door of the den remained open, and our talk went on to the
rising and falling of infant voices. At last, thinking that my good-bye
must be to Johnny only, I rose to go. You might reasonably ask for a
clearer impression of his home and a more definite account of his wife.
But what can I say when the primary address was so disconcertingly to
the ear? Of his wife--who came down, during a lull, at the last
moment--I can only say that she seemed too _empressee_ at the beginning
and too casual at the end. Perhaps she had decided that, after all, I
was no more than I myself claimed to be. Perhaps the infant hurricane
was still ruffling the surface of her mind, or even disturbing its
depths.

"I won't ask you to call again," she said, as we shook hands for a
good-night: "we shall be moving in the spring." She spoke with a
satisfied air of self-recognized _finesse_, and as in the confident hope
of completing very promptly some well-planned little programme; but--

"Visit us there," said Johnny, with a quick cordiality which prevented
his wife from redeeming herself.

"There" had been the chief topic in the den. Many neighborhoods had been
brought forward, with their attendant advantages and disadvantages.
Johnny told me what he thought, and let me say what I thought. When I
listened, it was as a man who might soon have a similar problem to
consider. When I spoke it was to utter banalities sedately; any
neighborhood might do, I said, that had good air; yes, and good
schools--looking toward the future. And any house, I felt, would serve,
if it had a nursery that was sealed, sound proof, remote....

"Well, best luck in your search for your roof-tree," I said earnestly to
them both.

"'Roof-tree'!" echoed Johnny. And, in fa