Once more he resolved, calmly and with a serious determination, that this humiliating comedy should go no farther. He would turn about and go home without entering the house. It would be well for Amos to know that an old lawyer of sixty was composed of different material from the impressionable enthusiast of twenty-seven. While making this resolve the soles of his shoes were drawing themselves across the iron scraper; then he saw his hand rise slowly toward the old-fashioned knocker and, with three taps, announce his presence. A huge fly dozing on the knocker flew off and lit again upon the panel of the door. As it readjusted its wings and drew a pair of front legs over the top of its head Mr. Cabot wondered, if at the creation of the world, it was fore-ordained that this insect should occupy that identical spot at a specified moment of a certain day, and execute this trivial performance. If so, what a rôle humanity was playing! The door opened and Mrs. Farnum, with a smiling face, stood before him. “How do you do, Mr. Cabot? Won’t you step in?” As he opened his lips to decline, he entered the little hallway, was shown into the parlor and sat in a horse-hair rocking-chair, in which he waited for Mrs. Farnum to call her husband. When the husband came Mr. Cabot stated his business and found that he was once more dependent upon his own volition. He could rise, walk to the window, say what he wished, and sit down again when he desired. Upon reaching home he went directly to his chamber, and was glad to enter it without meeting his daughter. His reflection in the mirror surprised him, as he expected to find a face thirty years older than when it started for the village. But there were no outward traces of the recent struggle. It was the same face, calm, firm, and as self-reliant as ever. This was reassuring and did much toward a return of confidence. He threw himself upon the bed, and as he lay there he heard through the open window the voices of Molly and Amos in the old-fashioned garden. They seemed very jolly and happy, and Molly’s laughter came like music to his ears; but her companion, although amusing and full of fun, seemed to do none of the laughing; and then it came upon him that in all his intercourse with Amos he had never heard him laugh. Ever ready to smile, and often irresistible in his high spirits, yet he never laughed aloud. And the deep melancholy of his face when in repose--was that a result of fulfilling prophecies? Were there solemn secrets behind that boyish face? The perfume of the flowers stole in through the closed blinds, and he could hear the buzzing of a bee outside the window, mingling with the voices in the garden. These voices became lower, the subject of conversation having changed--perhaps to something more serious--and Mr. Cabot took a nap. VII