the next half hour he said many other things, and
so did she, and when at last she did go away, he stood in the doorway,
looking after her, knowing himself to be not a failure, but the one real
overwhelming success in all this gloriously successful world.

CHAPTER XX

It was April and one of those beautiful early spring days with which New
England is sometimes favored. The first buds were showing on the trees,
the first patches of new green were sprinkling the sheltered slopes of
the little hills, and under the dead leaves by the edges of the woods
boys had been rummaging for the first mayflowers.

It was supper time at the Fair Harbor and the "guests"--quoting Mrs.
Susannah Brackett--or the "inmates"--quoting Mr. Judah Cahoon--were
seated about the table. There were some notable vacancies in the roster.
At the head, where Mrs. Cordelia Berry had so graciously and for so long
presided, there was now an empty chair. That chair would soon be filled,
however; the new matron of the Harbor was at that moment in the office
discussing business matters with Mr. Bradley, the new "outside manager."
She had told the others not to wait for her; she would come to supper as
soon as she could. So Mrs. Brackett, who had moved up to the seat once
glorified by the dignity of Miss Elvira Snowden, was serving the cold
corned beef; while opposite her, in the chair where Elizabeth Berry used
to sit, Mrs. Aurora Chase was ladling forth the preserved pears. And, in
the absence of the matron, it was of course natural that conversation
should turn to subjects which could not be discussed as freely or
pointedly in her presence.

Miss Desire Peasley began the discussion. She looked at the ancient
clock on the mantel. The time was a quarter to six.

"H'm," sniffed Miss Peasley, with a one-sided smile. "I suppose likely
the great event's took place long afore this. They're married and off on
their honeymoon by now.... If you can call a cruise on board a ship
bound to an outlandish place like Singapore a honeymoon. I took one
voyage to Bombay with my brother, and 'twan't the honeymoon trip I'd
pick out. _Such_ a place! And such folks! The clothes those poor
heathens wore--or didn't wear! Shameful! Don't talk!"

The order not to talk was plainly not considered binding, for every one
immediately began to talk.

"I should like to have seen the weddin'," proclaimed Mrs. Hattis Thomas,
with a giggle. "Must have looked more like an adoptin'