must be home soon now,
if he comes on that five-clock train," she said.

"Yes, I guess he will."

In fact, it was a very few minutes before a carriage stopped in front
of the house and Evelyn called out: "There he is! Papa has come!"

Maria did not dare look out of the window. She arose with trembling
knees and went out into the hall as the front door opened. She saw at
the first glance that her father had changed--that he did not look
well. And yet it was difficult to say why he did not look well. He
had not lost flesh, at least not perceptibly; he was not very pale,
but on his face was the expression of one who is looking his last at
the things of this world. The expression was at once stern and sad
and patient. When he saw Maria, however, the look disappeared for the
time. His face, which had not yet lost its boyish outlines, fairly
quivered between smiles and tears. He caught Maria in his arms.

"Father's blessed child!" he whispered in her ear.

"Oh, father," half sobbed Maria, "why didn't you send for me before?
Why didn't you tell me?"

"Hush, darling!" Harry said, with a glance at Evelyn, who stood
looking on with a puzzled, troubled expression on her little face.
Harry took off his overcoat, and they all went into the parlor. "That
fire looks good," said Harry, drawing close to it.

"I got Maria to ask Irene to make it," Evelyn said, in her childish
voice.

"That was a good little girl," said Harry. He sat down on the divan,
with a daughter on each side of him. Maria nestled close to her
father. With an effort she kept her quivering face straight. She
dared not look in his face again. A knell seemed ringing in her ears
from her own conviction, a voice of her inner consciousness, which
kept reiterating, "Father is going to die, father is going to die."
Maria knew little of illness, but she felt that she could not mistake
that expression. But her father talked quite gayly, asking her about
her school and Aunt Maria and Uncle Henry and his wife. Maria replied
mechanically. Finally she mustered courage to say:

"How are you feeling, father? Are you well?"

"I am about the same as when you went away, dear," Harry replied, and
that expression of stern, almost ineffable patience deepened on his
face. He smiled directly, however, and asked Evelyn what train her
mother had taken.

"She won't be home until the seven-thirty train," said Harry, "and
there is no use in our waiting dinner. You must be hungry, M