As he stood looking down at the little table, he was thrilled by the
sense of safety after a storm. Outside was the world with its harsh
judgments. Outside was the rain and the beating wind. Within were
these signs of a heart-warming hospitality. Here was no bleak
cleanliness, no perfunctory arrangement, but a place prepared as for an
honored guest.

Down-stairs Mary was explaining to Aunt Isabelle. "I'll have Susan
Jenks take some coffee to him. He's to get his dinners in town, and
Susan will serve his breakfast in his room. But I thought the coffee
to-night after the rain--might be comfortable."

The two women were in the dining-room. The table had been set for
three, but Barry had not come.

The dinner had been a simple affair--an unfashionably nourishing soup,
a broiled fish, a salad and now the coffee. Thus did Mary and Susan
Jenks make income and expenses meet. Susan's good cooking,
supplementing Mary's gastronomic discrimination, made a feast of the
simple fare.

"What's his business, my dear?"

"Mr. Poole's? He's in the Treasury. But I think he's studying
something. He seemed to be so eager for the books----"

"Your father's books?"

"Yes. I left them all up there. I even left father's old Bible.
Somehow I felt that if any one was tired or lonely that the old Bible