e dining-room and from the depths of his
wife's closet brought out a short sealskin jacket and a round cap
and made Nelly put them on.

Mrs. Deane, who sat busy between a plate of spice cake and a tray
piled with her famous whipped-cream tarts, laughed inordinately at
his behavior.

"Ain't he worse than any kid you ever see? He's been running to that
closet like a cat shut away from her kittens. I wonder Nell ain't
caught on before this. I did think he'd make out now to keep 'em
till Christmas morning; but he's never made out to keep anything
yet."

That was true enough, and fortunately Jud's inability to keep
anything seemed always to present a highly humorous aspect to his
wife. Mrs. Deane put her heart into her cooking, and said that so
long as a man was a good provider she had no cause to complain.
Other people were not so charitable toward Jud's failing. I remember
how many strictures were passed upon that little sealskin and how he
was censured for his extravagance. But what a public-spirited thing,
after all, it was for him to do! How, the winter through, we all
enjoyed seeing Nell skating on the river or running about the town
with the brown collar turned up about her bright cheeks and her hair
blowing out from under the round cap! "No seal," Mrs. Dow said,
"would have begrudged it to her. Why should we?" This was at the
sewing-circle, when the new coat was under grave discussion.

At last Nelly and I got up-stairs and undressed, and the pad of
Jud's slippered feet about the kitchen premises--where he was
carrying up from the cellar things that might freeze--ceased. He
called "Good night, daughter," from the foot of the stairs, and the
house grew quiet. But one is not a prima donna the first time for
nothing, and it seemed as if we could not go to bed. Our light must
have burned long after every other in Riverbend was out. The muslin
curtains of Nell's bed were drawn back; Mrs. Deane had turned down
the white counterpane and taken off the shams and smoothed the
pillows for us. But their fair plumpness offered no temptation to
two such hot young heads. We could not let go of life even for a
little while. We sat and talked in Nell's cozy room, where there was
a tiny, white fur rug--the only one in Riverbend--before the bed;
and there were white sash curtains, and the prettiest little desk
and dressing-table I had ever seen. It was a warm, gay little room,
flooded all day long with sunlight from east and sout