said her husband, laughing. "There are the notes of my lecture, if
you'll go and give it."

"Ah! we should not be like that celebrated couple. You would manage
the boys much better than I could doctor your patients."

"I don't know that. The boys are never so comfortable, when I've got
them alone. But, considering the hour, I should think the best
preliminary would be to put out the lamp and go to bed."

"I suppose it is time; but I always think this last talk before going
upstairs, the best thing in the whole day!" said the happy wife as
she took the candle.




CHAPTER III. THE WHITE SLATE.



Dark house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street.
Doors, where my heart was wont to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand—-
A hand that can be clasped no more.
Behold me, for I cannot sleep.-—Tennyson.