There was a general putting away of handkerchiefs, and many resolves written on the girlish faces, that were facing their first grief, and found it hard to do so with a patient faith. As they all left the room for morning duties, Bea lingered behind the others, and throwing her arms about her mother, looked up with full eyes and a loving smile. "Mama, you are such a comfort; you talk about heaven and papa, as if they were just around the corner, and make me feel as if he knew, and was interested in all that we did, just as much as ever. I know what will make him the happiest, and that is for us to be just like you, for he did love and trust you so perfectly." CHAPTER VII. MR. CONGREVE SURPRISES HIMSELF AND EVERYBODY ELSE. When Mr. Congreve came back from his walk, which had been a very lengthy one, for he was much unsettled in mind, he came very slowly, and began an uneasy soliloquy as he neared the house. "How I just hate to go back there, I do; seven women,--God bless my soul! and I'll wager my best hat they're all crying like water-spouts, and haven't made my bed yet. I won't sit down in a room that isn't cleaned up, and bless my soul,--where's my snuff box? I'd sit out doors, sooner than be in the room where they're all sniffling, with the curtains pulled down, as if Robert's going into eternal bliss, was a thing to turn yourself into a wailing dungeon over;" and, ending his mutterings with a revengeful snap of the gate, he stamped fiercely up the walk, scattering the gravel right and left, and scaring a stray cat almost into fits, by the way he swung his cane at her. Something in the looks of the house when he glanced up, brought him to a sudden stand still. The blinds were all open, with the sun shining warmly on the glass, one window was thrown up, and through it came the merry whistle of a bird, giving forth a musical defiance to the coming of winter, and when Mr. Congreve rather slowly opened the front door, there met him a warm, cheery odor, and,--yes, actually; some one laughed upstairs! In the sitting-room a jolly fire leaped and shone in the shining grate, the piano stood open, the room was full of sunshine, and under Mr. Dering's large portrait, was a bracket, and there on it, a graceful little vase filled with pansys and a tea-rose, from Jean's little window garden in the dining-room. Mr. Congreve gave a surprised and emphatic "humph," and tramped away to his own room, which was in apple-pie order, then tramped back, without having seen any one but Huldah flying around on the back porch. Presently Jean came through the hall, and seeing him sitting there and frowning at the fire, as though trying to study out some new and astonishing puzzle, she stopped at the stairs to call,--"Mr. Congreve is here, mama." "Humph! _Mr. Congreve_, if I ever, if I ever," exclaimed that gentleman, with some energy, and whirling about in his seat. "Come here, Jeanie; here's your candy."