call. The rain
that had kept him within had sent him to pass the hours of his
imprisonment in his "den," or office, and to the congenial occupation
of looking over the cash in his strong box. He was too wise to keep
much there, but there had been a time when the occupation had served
to amuse the inmate of the big room, and he was thinking of her now.

Indeed, when there came a knock on the outer door he started, and
quickly demanded: "Well?"

"Oliver, Betty Calvert, from Deerhurst, has called to see thee," said
the trembling voice of Dorcas.

"Why? What does she want?"

"To bring thee news. To bring thee a blessing, she says."

"I will come."

He rose and locked the strong box, inwardly resolving that its
contents must be placed in the bank when next he drove to town, and he
again carefully closed the door of the further room. But if there had
been any to observe they would have seen his face grow eager with hope
while his strong frame visibly trembled. He was not a superstitious
man but he had dreamed of Deerhurst more than once of late and news
from Deerhurst? A blessing, Dorcas said?

He entered the living-room, cast one eager glance around, and sat
down. He had offered no salutation whatever to Mrs. Calvert and the
gloom had returned to his face even more deeply. Dorcas was standing
wringing her hands, smiling and weeping by turns, and gazing in a
perfect ecstasy of eagerness upon Ananias and Sapphira, huddled
against Dorothy's knees. She held them close, as if fearing that cross
old man would do them harm, but they were not at all abashed, either
by him or by the novelty of the place.

"Well, Oliver Sands, you like plain speech and use it. So do I--on
occasion. I have brought home your grandchildren, Rose's children.
Their grandfather on the other side has been committed to an
institution and will give you no trouble. He 'passed them on' to my
household and I, in turn, 'pass them on,' to yours, their rightful
home. You will feel happier now. Good-morning."

"What makes thee think he is unhappy?" ventured Dorcas, at last
turning her eager gaze away from the twins.

"All the world sees that. He's a changed man since last we met, and I
suppose his conscience is troubling him on account of the way he
treated Rose and her children. Their demented grandfather, on the
other side, gave them horrible names. I'd change them if I were you.
Good-morning."

But if the miller had not sought to detain her nor resp