Helen met him at the door, and drew him into the house. "You are so
late," she said, pressing his chill fingers against her warm cheek, and
chafing them between her hands.

He stopped to kiss her before he took his coat off, smiling at her
happiness and his own.

"How raw and cold it is!" she said. "Come into the study; I have a
beautiful fire for you. Is it going to snow, do you think? How is your
sick woman?"

"Better," he answered, as he followed her into the room. "Oh, Helen, it
is good to be at home. I have not seen you since noon."

She laughed, and then insisted that he should sit still, and let her
bring his supper into the study, and eat it there by the fire. He watched
her with a delicious luxury of rest and content; for he was very tired
and very happy.

She put a little table beside him, covered with a large napkin; and then
she brought a loaf of brown bread and some honey, with a mould of yellow
butter, and last a little covered dish of chicken.

"I broiled that for you myself," she explained proudly; "and I did not
mean to give you coffee, but what do you think?--the whole canister of
tea has disappeared. When Alfaretta went to get it for my supper, it had
gone."

"Oh," John said, smiling, while Helen began to pour some cream into his
coffee from a flat little silver jug, "I forgot to mention it: the fact