Partly because these excursions generally led him from the house before she made her appearance mornings, partly because he felt vaguely that his own victory over fate involved disappointment for her, Seth did not see much of Isabel during her husband’s absence. So far as he knew, she had taken the news of Albert’s determination to move into the country quietly enough. Neither by word or sign had she discovered to Seth any distaste for the prospect. But none the less he had a half-guilty conviction that she did not like it, and that she must blame him, or at least have some feeling against him, for it. She had spoken so earnestly to him about the curse of existence in the country; it was not conceivable to him that she should suddenly accept for herself without protests or repining, the very life she had thus commiserated with him about. Yet it seemed after all that he was mistaken. It was the evening after Albert’s return, and Annie had come over after supper, ostensibly to borrow a wrapper-pattern from Isabel, but really, it need not be doubted, to hear the news. What news there was to be given out the eldest brother dispensed to the family circle, after Alvira had cleared away the “tea-things.” That domestic had a clear idea of making one in the circle, and, hastening in from the kitchen without her apron, drew up a chair to sit with the others, and enjoy the revelations which, from Albert’s manner during supper, all felt to be impending. But the invasion of city manners, which she and Milton had deplored and ridiculed for a fortnight back, had an unsuspected bitterness in its train for her. The lawyer looked at her coolly, as he struck a match on the under side of the mantel-piece, and asked: “Hadn’t you better go out, Alvira, and see that the chickens don’t get into the kitchen?”--and she flounced out again, with nose in air, and black eyes flashing. Albert lighted his cigar, put an arm chair down near the old rocker in which his father sat and took his seat. Near the open door, overlooking the farmyard and the barns, and full in the light from the west, sat Miss Sabrina, knitting, and Isabel, with a paper. At the latter’s feet, on a hassock, was Annie, and Seth sat on the doorstep. “Father,” said Albert, “things have been arranged in New York so that I can speak, now, about the plans which I hinted of ten days ago.” The old man nodded his head, and said plaintively, “Whatever yew think best, Albert, s’long as the boys git a fair shaow.”