Mr. Stevens said nothing, but calmly went up to bed, where he apparently
slept well, as he did not reappear until after nine o'clock the
following morning. He sought out Mrs. Gray in the sunny, shining
kitchen, but did not evince as much surprise as she had expected when
she told him, while she bustled about preparing fresh coffee and toast
for him, that when Thomas, at seven o'clock, had gone to the barn to
"hitch up" he had found that the double sleigh, the pair, and--Austin
had all mysteriously vanished.

"Austin always was a dreadful tease," she ended, "but I can't help sayin'
this is downright mean of him, when he knows how Thomas feels."

"My dear lady," said Mr. Stevens, cracking open the egg she had
set before him with great care, "where are your eyes? What about
Austin himself?"

Mrs. Gray set down the coffee-pot, looking at him in bewilderment.
"What do you mean?" she asked. "I hope Austin is grateful to her
now--an' that he'll _say_ so. At first he didn't like her at all, an'
he's never taken to her same as the rest of us have--seems to feel
she's bossy an' meddlesome. Howard an' I have spoken of it a thousand
times. He began by resenting everything she did, an' then got so he
didn't even mention her name."

"Exactly. I've noticed that myself. I don't pretend to be an infallible
judge of human nature, but mark my words, Austin has cared for my
Sylvia since the first moment he ever set eyes on her. No man likes to
feel that the woman he's in love with is doing everything for him and
his family, and that he can't--as he sees it--do anything in return.