Then Jack came wheeling himself in, with a radiant, sticky face, and a plate of candy. "O, we're having such lots of fun!" he cried. "We're going to make some chocolate creams now. Do come and help, sister?" She pointed to the pile of unanswered letters on the table. "I must get these out of the way first," she said. "Then I'll join you." "I guess you can eat and write at the same time," he answered, holding out the plate. He waited only long enough for her to taste his wares, and hurried back to the kitchen to report her opinion of their skill as confectioners. Just as the dining-room door banged behind him, she thought she heard some one coming up on the front porch with slow, uncertain steps. She paused in the act of dipping her pen into the ink, and listened. Some one certainly tried the bell, but it did not ring. Then the outside door opened and shut. She started up slightly alarmed, and half way across the room stopped again to listen. There was a momentary rustling in the hall. She heard something drop on the hat-rack. Then there was a low knock at the library door. She opened it a little way, and saw Dr. Trent standing there. "O, Uncle Doctor!" she cried, throwing the door wide open. "I never once thought of its being you. I took you for a burglar." Then she stopped, seeing the worn, haggard look on his face. He seemed to have grown ten years older since the last time she had seen him. Without noticing her proffered hand, he pushed slowly past her, and stood shivering before the fire. He had taken off his overcoat in the hall. He was bent and careworn, as if some unusual weight had been laid upon his patient shoulders, already bowed to the limit of their strength. Bethany knew from his firmly set lips and stern face that he was in sore need of comfort. "What is it, Uncle Doctor?" she asked, following him to the fire, and laying her hand lightly on his trembling arm. She felt that something dreadful must have happened to unnerve him so. "What can I do for you?" she asked with a tremble of distress in her voice. He dropped into a chair and covered his face with his hands. When he raised his head his eyes were blurred, and he had that helpless, childish look that comes with premature age. "I have been with Isabel all day," he said, huskily. Although Bethany had never heard Mrs. Trent's given name before, she knew that he was speaking of his wife. There was a long pause, which she finally broke by saying, "Don't you see her every day? I thought you were in the habit of going out to her that often."