When at last he came in and threw off his waterproof coat, the kitchen was in order and his wife was sitting by the parlor fire with Thomson's "Land and the Book" in her hand. "Are you fond of reading?" he asked. "Yes, very." "Well, I am, too, sort of; but I've let the years slip by without doing half as much as I ought." "Light your pipe and I'll read to you, if you wish me to." "Oh, come now! I at least believe in Sunday as a day of rest, and you need it. Reading aloud is about as hard work as I can do." "But I'm used to it. I read aloud to mother a great deal," and then there passed over her face an expression of deep pain. "What is it, Alida? Don't you feel well?" "Yes, oh, yes!" she replied hastily, and her pale face became crimson. It was another stab of memory recalling the many Sundays she had read to the man who had deceived her. "Shall I read?" she asked. "Alida," he said very kindly, "it wasn't the thought of your mother that brought that look of pain into your face." She shook her head sadly, with downcast eyes. After a moment or two, she raised them appealingly to him as she said simply, "There is so much that I wish I could forget." "Poor child! Yes, I think I know. Be patient with yourself, and remember that you were never to blame." Again came that quick, grateful glance by which some women express more than others can ever put in words. Her thought was, "I didn't think that even he was capable of that. What a way of assuring me that he'll be patient with me!" Then she quietly read for an hour descriptions of the Holy Land that were not too religious for Holcroft's mind and which satisfied her conscience better than much she had read in former days to satisfy a taste more alien to hers than that of her husband. Holcroft listened to her correct pronunciation and sweet, natural tones with a sort of pleased wonder. At last he said, "You must stop now." "Are you tired?" she asked. "No, but you are, or ought to be. Why, Alida, I didn't know you were so well educated. I'm quite a barbarous old fellow compared with you." "I hadn't thought of that before," she said with a laugh. "What a fool I was, then, to put it into your head!" "You must be more careful. I'd never have such thoughts if you didn't suggest them." "How did you come to get such a good education?" "I wish I had a better one. Well, I did have good advantages up to the time I was seventeen. After I was old enough I went to school quite steadily, but it seems to me that I learned a little of everything and not much of anything. When father died and we lost our property, we had to take to our needles. I suppose I might have obtained work in a store, or some such place, but I couldn't bear to leave mother alone and I disliked being in public. I certainly didn't know enough to teach, and besides, I was afraid to try." "Well, well! You've stumbled into a quiet enough place at last."