a hard day's work,"
said Henry.

Sylvia exclaimed again, but she was not in reality disturbed. She was
quite well aware that her husband was enjoying himself after his own
peculiar fashion, and that, if he spoke the truth, the flapjacks were
more to his New England taste for supper than thick beefsteak.

"Well, wait until after supper, and maybe you will change your mind
about having something to say grace for," Meeks said, mysteriously.

The husband and wife stared at him. "What do you mean, Mr. Meeks?"
asked Sylvia, a little nervously. Something in the lawyer's manner
agitated her. She was not accustomed to mysteries. Life had not held
many for her, especially of late years.

Henry took another mouthful of flapjacks. "Well, if you can give me
any good reason for saying grace you will do more than the parson
ever has," he said.

"Oh, Henry!" said Sylvia.

"It's the truth," said Henry. "I've gone to meeting and heard how
thankful I ought to be for things I haven't got, and things I have
got that other folks haven't, and for forgiveness for breaking
commandments, when, so far as I can tell, commandments are about the
only things I've been able to keep without taxes--till I'm tired of
it."

"Wait till after supper," repeated the lawyer again, with smiling
mystery. He had a large, smooth face, with gray hair on the sides of
his head and none on top. He had good, placid features, and an easy
expression. He ate two platefuls of the flapjacks, then two pieces of
cake, and a large slice of custard pie! He was very fond of sweets.

After supper was over Henry and Meeks returned to the sitting-room,
and sat down beside the two front windows. It was a small, square
room furnished with Sylvia's chief household treasures. There was a
hair-cloth sofa, which she and Henry had always regarded as an
extravagance and had always viewed with awe. There were two rockers,
besides one easy-chair, covered with old-gold plush--also an
extravagance. There was a really beautiful old mahogany table with
carved base, of which neither Henry nor Sylvia thought much. Sylvia
meditated selling enough Calkin's soap to buy a new one, and stow
that away in Mr. Allen's room. Mr. Allen professed great admiration
for it, to her wonderment. There was also a fine, old, gold-framed
mirror, and some china vases on the mantel-shelf. Sylvia was rather
ashamed of them. Mrs. Jim Jones had a mirror which she had earned by
selling Calkin's soap, which Sylv