Then she walked slowly toward the kitchen, where she contemplated the stove, two grease-spotted tables, and four fly-specked walls. Philip followed her, saying:-- "What a den! Money must be spent here at once, and--oh, Grace! You're crying? Come here--quick! I never before saw tears in your eyes!" "And you never shall again," Grace sobbed. "I don't see what can be the matter with me; it must be the cold weather that has--" "This forlorn barn of a house and this shabby, God-forsaken town have broken your heart!" exclaimed Philip. "I wish I too could cry. I assure you my heart has been in my boots, though I've tried hard to keep it in its proper place. Don't let's remain here another hour. I'll gladly abandon my inheritance to the benevolent societies. We'll hurry back to the city and let our things follow us." "But we can't, Phil, for we've burned our bridges behind us. We can take only such money as will get us back, and we would not be certain of employment on reaching the city. Besides, we told our acquaintances of our good fortune, but not of its conditions; if we go back, they will suspect you and pity me." "You're right--you're right!" said Philip, from behind tightly closed jaws. "Why hadn't I sense to get leave of absence for a week, and look at the gift before accepting it? Still, we're alive; we have the money, and the first and best use of it is to make you comfortable. I'll get Caleb to get me some men at once,--one of them to make fires, and the others to bring over and unpack our goods. In the meanwhile, you shall at least keep warm in the office of the store. You'll have only barrels of molasses and vinegar and bales of grain-sacks for company, but--" "But my husband won't be farther away than the next room," Grace said, "and the door between shall remain open." Then Philip kissed the tears from her eyes, and Grace called herself an unreasonable baby, and Philip called himself an unpardonable donkey, and they returned together to the store, entering softly by the back door, so that Caleb should not see them and join them at once. But dingy though the back windows of the office were, Caleb, standing behind one of them, said to himself:-- "Rubbin' her face with her handkerchief!--that means she's been cryin'. Well, I should think she would, if city houses are anythin' like the picture-papers make 'em out to be." Caleb retired to the store, where Phil joined him after a few moments, and said:-- "We shall live in the old house, Mr. Wright. My wife and I have been looking it over, and we see how it can be made very comfortable." "You do, eh?" Caleb replied; at the same time his face expressed so much astonishment that Philip laughed, and said:--