Dinner was a necessary nuisance to be endured and he got through with it as quickly as possible. Alone in the big dining room, waited upon by Ellen, with the chair at the other end of the table unoccupied, it was no wonder that appetite failed him. In the old days--and they were not so old--his dinner was an event. He was particular about the choice of dishes, insisted upon an abundance of everything, lingered over the dessert, smoked his cigar and listened while Mother chatted of the affairs of the household or repeated town gossip. Very often there were guests--leading politicians of the county; his lawyers down from Boston on business connected with the eternal suit; Judge Baxter and Mrs. Baxter from Ostable; other prominent--though of course less prominent--fellow townspeople like the Snows or the Taylors; on Sundays the minister and his wife. Pleasant company, in complete agreement with his opinions on all subjects, substantial people, people of consequence. They would come now if he asked them, but he had no mind to ask. With that vacant chair opposite his own, the filling of the others would be only an emphasis of his wretchedness. Arabella had liked their niece, had more than once spoken of that liking, had even dared so far on rare occasions as to hint that a girl like Esther might be “kind of nice to have around; somebody outside of just us two old folks to take an interest in. Don’t you think so, dear?” He had refused to listen to the hints then. Freeling Townsend had chosen to follow his own road in open defiance of the brother who had lifted him out of the mire so often. Let those who were responsible for his taking that road tramp it to the end; that was his brusque ultimatum. Only since his wife’s death had he changed his mind. That conscience to which Reliance Clark had referred as having been “pushed away up-attic” had been shaken from its camphor. Perhaps he had been too hard. He had been right, of course, but even so he might have yielded, to please Mother. It would have pleased her then; if the talk which the minister and the rest so wearisomely offered him as consolation _should_ be true it might please her now. He was a regular church-goer at the old First Meeting House on Sunday, but he was so more because it was the conservative, orthodox thing to do than from any deep-rooted religious convictions. Nevertheless-- And Esther was a Townsend. It was risky experiment, but for Mother’s sake he had decided to give it a trial. His own loneliness and the growing certainty that he could not continue to live in that house without companionship were the weights which tipped the balance.