Martha wondered where Dan was. He would prefer a concert by Sousa’s Band to the French and Russian programme set for this evening, she knew; but the opening of “the Symphony” was in its way a civic occasion; one for which the credit was in some part due to his brother; and she had expected him to be there. “Isn’t Dan coming?” she asked Harlan. “I think so.” “Do you think he’s worried about business lately, Harlan?” “No, I don’t think he ever worries about anything.” “Oh, but you’re wrong!” she said quickly. “You don’t know him; a man can’t sacrifice everything to just one object in life, as he has, all these years, and not worry about it. I know your mother worries about _him_. She says he never takes any care of himself, and it’s beginning to tell on him. But I mean are there any—any rumours around town that he’s in some sort of business difficulty, or anything like that?” “No; I think not. At least I haven’t heard of anything like that being more prevalent with him than usual. He’s always up and down, either up to his neck or riding on the crest—that’s his way, and I don’t believe he’d enjoy himself otherwise. The only thing he could talk about when I saw him yesterday at home was his new house. It’s finished at last; and they’re going to move into it. Mother’s sold our old place, you know, and the wrecking will begin next week. Pleasant for you!” “Oh, I’m trying to get father to go, too,” she said. “He’s terribly obstinate, but with the house on the other side of us rebuilt into an apartment, and now your mother’s to be torn down, he’ll have to give in. We’ll have to move out to northern Ornaby like everybody else. You’ll have to come, too, Harlan.” “Thank you,” he said. “I’ve been waiting a good many years for that invitation. May I make an appointment with your father for to-morrow morning?” She laughed, blushed, and touched his coat sleeve with her folded fan of black feathers. “Hush! People will hear you!” “You fear it may be suspected that I’m still serious in my intentions?” “Hush!” she said again. “I mean we’re about to hear some serious music, and it’s no time for nonsense.” Harlan was obedient; he said no more, but brightened as he listened to the serious music;—her tone had been kind and he hoped that he was not mistaken in thinking he detected something a little self-conscious in it. He was no eager lover now; his bachelorhood was pleasant to him; and he could be content with it; but as Martha leaned forward to listen he looked sidelong at her and felt that he had been right and wise to wish for no other woman. They had been companions for so long, and understood each other so well, marriage would be no disturbing change for either of them. He was assured of happiness in it, if he could persuade her, and something in the way she had just spoken to him made him almost sure that he was about to persuade her at last.