and
pondering, still within his arms, and he waited and watched her. At
last she began again.

"We cannot do _them_ any good. But I feel as if I should like to spend
my life in making people happy."

"How many people?" said her husband fondly, with a kiss or two which
explained his meaning. Lois laughed out.

"Philip, _I_ do not make you happy."

"You come very near it."

"But I mean-- Your happiness has something better to rest on. I should
like to spend my life bringing happiness to the people who know nothing
about being happy."

"Do it, sweetheart!" said he, straining her a little closer. "And let
me help."

"Let you help!--when you would have to do almost the whole. But, to be
sure, money is not all; and money alone will not do it, in most cases.
Philip, I will tell you where I should like to begin."

"Where? I will begin there also."

"With Mrs. Barclay."

"Mrs. Barclay!" There came a sudden light into Philip's eyes.

"Do you know, she is not a happy woman?"

"I know it."

"And she seems very much alone in the world."

"She is alone in the world."

"And she has been so good to us! She has done a great deal for Madge
and me."

"She has done as much for me."

"I don't know about that. I do not see how she could. In a way, I owe
her almost everything. Philip, you would never have married the woman I
was three years ago."

"Don't take your oath upon that," he said lightly.

"But you would not, and you ought not."

"There is a counterpart to that. I am sure you would not have married
the man I was three years ago."

At that Lois laid down her face again for a moment on his breast.

"I had a pretty hard quarter of an hour in a sleigh with you once!" she
said.

Philip's answer was again wordless.

"But about Mrs. Barclay?" said Lois, recovering herself.

"Are you one of the few women who can keep to the point?" said he,
laughing.

"What can we do for her?"

"What would you like to do for her?"

"Oh-- Make her happy!"

"And to that end--?"

Lois lifted her face and looked into Mr. Dillwyn's as if she would
search out something there. The frank nobleness which belonged to it
was encouraging, and yet she did not speak.

"Shall we ask her to make her home with us?"

"O Philip!" said Lois, with her face all illuminated,--"would you like
it?"

"I owe her much more than you do. And, love, I like what you like."

"Would she come?"

"If she could resist you and me together, she