in every line of the little
figure huddled up in front of the fire.

Jack noticed it as he tossed aside his magazine and sat watching her a
moment. Then he exclaimed sympathetically, "Cheer up, Mary. Never mind
the old letters. You'll have better luck next time."

There was no answer. A profound silence followed, so deep that he could
hear the ticking of a clock across the hall, coming faintly through
closed doors.

"Cheer up, Sis!" he exclaimed again, knowing that if he could only start
her to talking she would soon drag herself out of her slough of despond.

"Don't all the calendars and cards nowadays tell you to _smile_, no
matter what happens? Don't you know that

"'The man worth while is the man who can smile
When everything goes dead wrong?'"

His question drew the retort he hoped for, and she exclaimed savagely,
"I _hate_ those silly old cheerfulness calendars! And deliver me from
people who follow their advice! It's just as foolish to go through life
smiling at every kind of circumstances that fate hands out as it would
be to wear furs in all kinds of weather, even the dog-days. What's the
use of pretending that the sun is shining when everybody can see that
the rain's simply drenching you and that you're as bedraggled as a wet
hen?"

"Well, the sun _is_ shining," persisted Jack. "Always, somewhere. Our
little rain clouds don't stop it. All they can do is to hide it from us
awhile."

"You tell that to old Noah," grumbled Mary, her face still hidden in her
hands. "Much good the sun behind his rain clouds did him! If he hadn't
had an ark he'd have been washed off the face of the earth like the
other flood sufferers. Seems to me it's sort of foolish to smile when
you've been swept clean down and out. Five turn-downs in one day--"

Her voice broke, and she gave the scattered letters an impatient push
with her foot. Her tone of unusual bitterness stopped Jack's playful
attempt to console her. He sat looking into the fire a little space,
considering what to say. When he spoke again it was in a firm, quiet
tone, almost fatherly in its kindness.

"There's no reason, Mary, for you to be so utterly miserable over your
disappointments. There is no actual need for you to go out into the
world to make your own living and fight your own way. It was different
when I was a helpless cripple. Then I had to sit by and watch you and
Joyce and mother struggle to keep us all afloat. But I'm able to furnis