the long lashes over the black eyes moving very rapidly.

"Tommy" (severely), "what is this tomfoolery?"

"I understand. I ain't no good to you. Thanks for giving me a
trial. My fault."

"Tommy" (less severely), "don't be an idiot."

"Ain't an idiot. 'Twas Emma. Told me I was good at cooking. Said
I'd got an aptitude for it. She meant well."

"Tommy" (no trace of severity), "sit down. Emma was quite right.
Your cooking is--is promising. As Emma puts it, you have aptitude.
Your--perseverance, your hopefulness proves it."

"Then why d'ye want to get someone else in to do it?"

If Peter could have answered truthfully! If Peter could have
replied:

"My dear, I am a lonely old gentleman. I did not know it until--
until the other day. Now I cannot forget it again. Wife and child
died many years ago. I was poor, or I might have saved them. That
made me hard. The clock of my life stood still. I hid away the
key. I did not want to think. You crept to me out of the cruel
fog, awakened old dreams. Do not go away any more"--perhaps Tommy,
in spite of her fierce independence, would have consented to be
useful; and thus Peter might have gained his end at less cost of
indigestion. But the penalty for being an anti-sentimentalist is