He was trying to reassure her, and she knew it, and was very grateful to him for the kindness, and said, laughingly, that she put up her hair because she thought it suited the long dresses which she meant to wear now that she was a woman of business, but if he liked it in her neck it should be worn so; and then she asked him of his journey, and if he was not tired and hungry. “Tired? No; but cold as a frog and hungry as a bear. What have we for dinner?” And he turned to inspect the little round table laid for one. “Nothing but toast and tea. Why, that would starve a cat. Did you dine in the middle of the day?” Rosamond colored painfully as she answered: “I had lunch, as usual. I was not hungry. I am never hungry now, and just have tea at night.” “Rossie,” and Everard laid both hands on her shoulders and looked her squarely in her eyes, “Rossie, are you practicing economy, so as not to use the money you think belongs to me?” He divined her motive, for it was the fear of using the Forrest money needlessly which was beginning to rule her life, and had prompted her to omit the usual dinner, the most expensive meal of the day, and have, instead, plain bread and butter, or toast and tea; and Everard read the truth in her tell-tale face, and said: “That will never do, and will displease me very much; I wish you to live as you ought, and if it is on my account you are trying the bread and water system, I am here now and hungry as a fish, so you can indulge for once and order on everything there is.” There was not much, but a slice of cold ham was found, and some cheese, and jam and pickles, and Axie made a delicious cup of coffee, and brought more bread and butter, and offered to bake him a hoe cake if he would wait, but he was too nearly starved to wait for hoe cakes, he said, and he took his father’s place at the table, and was conscious of a great degree of comfort in and satisfaction with his surroundings, especially with the sight of the young girl who sat opposite to him and poured his coffee, and once or twice laughed heartily at some of his funny remarks. He seemed in excellent spirits, and though much of it was forced for Rossie’s sake, he really was happier than he had been since his father’s death. His future, so far as Josephine was concerned, was settled. He should never attempt to live with her now. All the evening he sat with Rossie, and piled the wood upon the fire until the flames leaped merrily up the chimney, and infused a genial warmth through the large room. And Rosamond enjoyed it thoroughly because it was done for him. She would never have added a single superfluous chip for herself, lest it should diminish what was one day to go back to him; but for Everard she would almost have burned the house itself and felt she was doing her duty. The next morning he spent with Beatrice, to whom he told the story of the midnight ride from Albany.