That morning's light could have fallen on no happier house, the world
over, than "Gunn's." A little child brought back to life, out of the
gates of death; two hearts entering anew on life, through the gates of
love; half a score of hearts, each glad in the gladness of each other,
and in the gladness of all,--what a morning it was!

Doctor Eben and Hetty met at the head of the stairs.

"Oh, Hetty!" exclaimed the doctor.

"Well?" said Hetty, in a half-defiant tone, without looking up. He came
nearer, and was about to kiss her.

She darted back, and lifting her eyes gave him a glance of such mingled
love and reproof that he was bewildered.

"Why, Hetty, surely I may kiss you?" he exclaimed.

"I was asleep last night," she answered gravely, "and you did very
wrong," and without another word or look she passed on.

Doctor Eben was thoroughly angry.

"What does she mean?" he said to himself. "She needn't think I am to be
played with like a boy;" and the doctor took his seat at the breakfast
table, with a sterner countenance than Hetty had ever seen him wear. In
a few moments she began to cast timid and deprecating looks at him. His
displeasure hurt her indescribably. She had not intended to offend or
repel him. She did not know precisely what she had intended: in fact