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,