d to look at it and change the
dressing to-morrow morning. Good-by."

But when he paid the promised visit, the next morning, he did more than
change the dressing upon the damaged hand. The injury was severe of
its kind, and Gurney spent a long time over it, though Sheridan was
rebellious and scornful, being brought to a degree of tractability
only by means of horrible threats and talk of amputation. However, he
appeared at the dinner-table with his hand supported in a sling, which
he seemed to regard as an indignity, while the natural inquiries upon
the subject evidently struck him as deliberate insults. Mrs. Sheridan,
having been unable to contain her solicitude several times during the
day, and having been checked each time in a manner that blanched her
cheek, hastened to warn Roscoe and Sibyl, upon their arrival at five, to
omit any reference to the injury and to avoid even looking at the sling
if they possibly could.

The Sheridans dined on Sundays at five. Sibyl had taken pains not to
arrive either before or after the hand was precisely on the hour;
and the members of the family were all seated at the table within two
minutes after she and Roscoe had entered the house.

It was a glum gathering, overhung with portents. The air seemed charged,
awaiting any tiny ignition to explode; and Mrs. Sheridan's expression,
as she sat with her eyes fixed almost continually upon her husband, was
that of a person engaged in prayer. Edith was pale and intent.
Roscoe looked ill; Sibyl looked ill; and Sheridan looked both ill and
explosive. Bibbs had more color than any of these, and there was a
strange brightness, like a light, upon his face. It was curious to see
anything so happy in the tense gloom of that household.

Edith ate little, but gazed nearly all the time at her plate. She never
once looked at Sibyl, though Sibyl now and then gave her a quick glance,
heavily charged, and then looked away. Roscoe ate nothing, and, like
Edith, kept his eyes upon his plate and made believe to occupy himself
with the viands thereon, loading his fork frequently, but not lifting
it to his mouth. He did not once look at his father, though his father
gazed heavily at him most of the time. And between Edith and Sibyl, and
between Roscoe and his father, some bitter wireless communication seemed
continually to be taking place throughout the long silences prevailing
during this enlivening ceremony of Sabbath refection.

"Didn't you go to churc