ld-fashioned and shabby; she would think
it a poor, mean place. Even the orchard over the hill brought him no
comfort now. Blossom would not care for orchards. She would be ashamed
of her stupid old father and the barren farm. She would hate White
Sands, and chafe at the dull existence, and look down on everything that
went to make up his uneventful life.

Old Man Shaw was unhappy enough that night to have satisfied even Mrs.
Blewett had she known. He saw himself as he thought White Sands folk
must see him--a poor, shiftless, foolish old man, who had only one thing
in the world worthwhile, his little girl, and had not been of enough
account to keep her.

"Oh, Blossom, Blossom!" he said, and when he spoke her name it sounded
as if he spoke the name of one dead.

After a little the worst sting passed away. He refused to believe long
that Blossom would be ashamed of him; he knew she would not. Three years
could not so alter her loyal nature--no, nor ten times three years. But
she would be changed--she would have grown away from him in those three
busy, brilliant years. His companionship could no longer satisfy her.
How simple and childish he had been to expect it! She would be sweet
and kind--Blossom could never be anything else. She would not show open
discontent or dissatisfaction; she would not be like Lauretta Bradley;
but it would be there, and he would divine it, and it would break his
heart. Mrs. Blewett was right. When he had given Blossom up he should
not have made a half-hearted thing of his sacrifice--he should not have
bound her to come back to him.

He walked about in his little garden until late at night, under the
stars, with the sea crooning and calling to him down the slope. When
he finally went to bed he did not sleep, but lay until morning with
tear-wet eyes and despair in his heart. All the forenoon he went about
his usual daily work absently. Frequently he fell into long reveries,
standing motionless wherever he happened to be, and looking dully before
him. Only once did he show any animation. When he saw Mrs. Blewett
coming up the lane he darted into the house, locked the door, and
listened to her knocking in grim silence. After she had gone he went
out, and found a plate of fresh doughnuts, covered with a napkin, placed
on the bench at the door. Mrs. Blewett meant to indicate thus that she
bore him no malice for her curt dismissal the day before; possibly
her conscience gave her some twinges also