"Simeon," she began tremulously, "that dear child must go to
bed!" And she hurried across the floor and up the stairs,
followed by her husband. "Come, David," she said, as she reached
the top; "it's time little boys were asleep! Come!"

Her voice was low, and not quite steady. To David her voice
sounded as her eyes looked when there was in them the far-away
something that hurt. Very slowly he came forward into the
moonlight, his gaze searching the woman's face long and
earnestly.

"And do you--want me?" he faltered.

The woman drew in her breath with a little sob. Before her stood
the slender figure in the yellow-white gown--John's gown. Into
her eyes looked those other eyes, dark and wistful,--like John's
eyes. And her arms ached with emptiness.

"Yes, yes, for my very own--and for always!" she cried with
sudden passion, clasping the little form close. "For always!"

And David sighed his content.

Simeon Holly's lips parted, but they closed again with no words
said. The man turned then, with a curiously baffled look, and
stalked down the stairs.

On the porch long minutes later, when once more David had gone to
bed, Simeon Holly said coldly to his wife:--