A dead bough shot down the current while she stood there, went over and
down, and out of sight, throwing up its little branches like helpless
hands.

It fell in with a thought of Asenath's, perhaps; at any rate she did
not like the looks of it, and went home.

Over the bridge, and the canal, and the lighted streets, the falls
called after her: "He's sorry for her, and all that." The curtain was
drawn aside when she came home, and she saw her father through the
window, sitting alone, with his gray head bent.

It occurred to her that she had often left him alone,--poor old father!
It occurred to her, also, that she understood now what it was to be
alone. Had she forgotten him in these two comforted, companioned years?

She came in weakly, and looked about.

"Dick's in, and gone to bed," said the old man, answering her look.
"You're tired, Senath."

"I am tired, father."

She sunk upon the floor,--the heat of the room made her a little
faint,--and laid her head upon his knee; oddly enough, she noticed that
the patch on it had given way,--wondered how many days it had been
so,--whether he had felt ragged and neglected while she was busy about
that blue neck-tie for Dick. She put her hand up and smoothed the
corners of the rent.