resent the untimely visitation of relations. Sunlight poured in
through the windows. It was a gorgeous morning.

"Well," said George Harley, "I've seen my brokers and can do nothing
more to-day. Let the child have her sleep out. I'm just as happy to
be here with you, Lil, as anywhere else." And he bent over his wife
as if he were her lover, as indeed he was, and kissed her pretty
ear. His clothes were very new and his collar the shade of an inch
too high for comfort and his patent leather shoes something on the
tight side, but the spirits of the great lovers had welcomed him and
were unafraid.

He won a most affectionate and grateful smile from the neat little
lady whose brown hair was honestly tinged with white, and whose
unlined face was innocent of make-up. Mrs. Harley had not yet
recovered from her astonishment at having been swept to the altar
after fifteen years of widowhood by this most simple and admirable
man. Even then she was not quite sure that she was not dreaming all
this. She patted his big hand and would have put her head aganst his
chest if the brim of her hat had permitted her to do so.

"That's very sweet of you, Geordie," she said. "How good you are to
me."

He echoed the word "Good!" and laughed and waved his hands. It was
the gesture of a man whose choice of ready words was not large
enough to describe all that he longed and tried to be to her. And
then he stood back with his long legs wide apart and his large hands
thrust into his pockets and his rather untidy gray head stuck on one
side and studied her as if she were a picture in a gallery. He