later, and found them.

"Jim," said his wife, eagerly, rising to greet him, and to bring
him, cold and ruddy, to the fireplace, "this is Mr. Rideout, dear!"

"How do you do, sir?" said Jim, stretching out his hand, and with a
smile on his tired, keen, young face. "Don't get up. I see that my
boy is making himself at home."

"Yes, sir; we've been having a great time getting undressed," said
the visitor.

"Jim," Anne went on radiantly, "Mr. Rideout and HIS wife lived here
years ago, when THEY were just married, and their children were born
here too!"

"No--is that so!" Jim was as much pleased and surprised as Anne, as
he settled himself with Virginia's web of silky hair against his
shoulder. "Built it, perhaps, Mr. Rideout?"

"No. No, it was eight or ten years old, then. I used to pass it,
walking to the office. We had a little office down on Meig's pier
then. As a matter of fact, my wife never saw it until I brought her
home to it. She was the only child of a widow, very formal Southern
people, and we weren't engaged very long. So my brother and I
furnished the house; used--" his eyes twinkled--"used to buy our
pictures in a lump. We decided we needed about four to each room,
and we'd go to a dealer's, and pick out a dozen of 'em, and ask him
to make us a price!"