ring caught the evening sunlight as she stood on the
wharf waving her handkerchief to me, while the boat moved slowly out,
and I lay in a steamer chair on the hurricane deck, prepared to enjoy a
smoke and a gossip with my old friend, the captain.

I wished her well with all my heart, but I sincerely hoped that I had
seen the last of Mary.

Judging the family to be at Interlaken as usual, I took the first train
down there, and toiled in the sun from the depot up to the cottages, by
way of the hill, which I had never considered steep before, to find my
own house deserted, windows and doors boarded up, veranda unswept,
hammocks removed. I would not give any of the neighbors the satisfaction
of knowing I was surprised and disappointed, so I kept out of sight till
they had all been to the hotel for dinner and dispersed. Then I went in
for mine, and after it returned to the beach near the station, lay down
on the sand, and waited for the next train.

There was not one back to town until late in the afternoon, and the
evening being cloudy, it was quite dark by the time I left the electric
car at the corner of our street. Even that little bit of a walk
exhausted me, and I had to rest on my stick every few minutes, but what
a relief it was to see, gleaming cheerfully as ever, the windows of the
House of the Seven Gables.

I leaned against our iron railing for a minute or two to collect myself
before making my appearance, and highly necessary was it for me to do
so, because the attitude of the two ladies upon the veranda struck me
dumb with amazement, and their conversation completely floored me. That
sandy-haired little woman in the low rocker must be my mother, but could
that regal figure on the edge of the veranda, with her head in my
mother's lap, possibly be my wife? The light from the nursery window
showed them to me distinctly, but I kept back in the shadow and listened
to the voices.

"My puir lamb! Ye've grat eneugh! Gang awa' tae yer bed; ye're sair
forfoughten."

As she stroked the wavy gray hair of the head on her knee, her tone
changed.

"I canna thole to think 'at son o' mine has brocht a' this trouble upon
ye."

"Not a word against him, mother! He's the best man that ever lived, and
I didn't appreciate him, that's all. I can never think of him but as my
dear, old, solid, yours-to-count-on Dave Gemmell. He was the silent
partner, unpopular, getting no praise, paying all bills, backing me up
in every fad,