aimed Alma. 'You'll
frighten him.'

'How did I look?'

'As if you saw something dreadful.'

Harvey laughed, and ran his fingers through the soft curls, and bade
himself be of good heart. Had he not thrown scorn upon people who make
a 'fuss' about their children. Had he not despised and detested chatter
about babies? To his old self what a simpleton would he have seemed!

On the morrow Mrs. Frothingham took her departure; leaving it, as
usual, uncertain when she would come again, but pleasantly assured that
it could not be very long. She thought Harvey the best of husbands; he
and Alma, the happiest of married folk. In secret, no doubt, she sadly
envied them. If her own lot had fallen in such tranquil places!

Two more days, and Alma received a reply to her invitation. Yes, Mrs
Abbott would come, and be with them for a week; longer she could not.
Her letter was amiable and well-worded as Alma's own. Harvey felt a
great relief, and it pleased him not a little to see his wife's
unfeigned satisfaction. This was Monday; the visitor promised to arrive
on Tuesday evening.

'Of course you'll drive over with me to meet her,' said Harvey.

'I think not. I dislike making acquaintance at railway stations. If it
should rain, you'll have to have a covered carriage, and imagine us
three shut up together!'

Alma laughed gaily at the idea. Harvey, though at a loss to interpret
her merriment, answered it with a smile, and said no more. Happily, the
weather was settled; the sun shone gallantly each morning; and on
Tuesday afternoon Harvey drove the seven miles, up hill and down,
between hedges of gorse and woods of larch, to the little market-town
where Mary Abbott would alight after her long journey.

CHAPTER 2

Half an hour after sunset Alma heard the approach of wheels. She had
long been ready to receive her visitor, and when the horse stopped, she
stood by the open door of the sitting-room, commanding her nervousness,
resolute to make an impression of grace and dignity. It would have
eased her mind had she been able to form some idea of Mrs. Abbott's
personal appearance; Harvey had never dropped a hint on the subject,
and she could not bring herself to question him. The bell rang; Ruth
hastened to answer it; Harvey's voice sounded.

'It turns chilly after the warm sunshine. I'm afraid we ought to have
had a covered carriage.'

'Then I should have seen nothing,' was replied in softer tones. 'The
drive was most e