women," he said. "She simply doesn't like to see the same old things
around all the time, and I don't know as I blame her. The world has
grown since that table was made, there's no doubt about that. It
stands to reason furniture has improved, too."

"Glad there's something you see in a bright light, Henry."

"I must say that I like this new mission furniture, myself, pretty
well," said Henry, somewhat importantly.

"That's as old as the everlasting hills; but the old that's new is
the newest thing in all creation," said Meeks. "Sylvia is a foolish
woman if she parts with this magnificent old piece for any
reproduction made in job lots."

"Oh, she isn't going to part with it. Mr. Allen will like it in his
room. He thinks as much of it as you do."

"He's right, too," said Meeks. "There's carving for you; there's a
fine grain of wood."

"It's very hard to keep clean," said Sylvia, as she came in rubbing
her moist hands. "Now, that new Flemish oak is nothing at all to take
care of, Mrs. Jones says."

"This is worth taking care of," said Meeks. "Now, Sylvia, sit down. I
have something to tell you and Henry."

Sylvia sat down. Something in the lawyer's manner aroused hers and
her husband's keenest attention. They looked at him and waited. Both