"That's pretty," he said. "Ah, that is blame pretty. Honey, it's just like medicine to me," he continued, "to lie here, quiet like this, with the lights low, and have my dear girl play those old, old tunes. My old governor, Laura, used to play that 'Open the Lattice to me,' that and 'Father, oh, Father, Come Home with me Now'--used to play 'em on his fiddle." His arm under his head, he went on, looking vaguely at the opposite wall. "Lord love me, I can see that kitchen in the old farmhouse as plain! The walls were just logs and plaster, and there were upright supports in each corner, where we used to measure our heights--we children. And the fireplace was there," he added, gesturing with his arm, "and there was the wood box, and over here was an old kind of dresser with drawers, and the torty-shell cat always had her kittens under there. Honey, I was happy then. Of course I've got you now, and that's all the difference in the world. But you're the only thing that does make a difference. We've got a fine place and a mint of money I suppose--and I'm proud of it. But I don't know.... If they'd let me be and put us two--just you and me--back in the old house with the bare floors and the rawhide chairs and the shuck beds, I guess we'd manage. If you're happy, you're happy; that's about the size of it. And sometimes I think that we'd be happier--you and I--chumming along shoulder to shoulder, poor an' working hard, than making big money an' spending big money, why--oh, I don't know ... if you're happy, that's the thing that counts, and if all this stuff," he kicked out a careless foot at the pictures, the heavy hangings, the glass cabinets of bibelots, "if all this stuff stood in the way of it--well--it could go to the devil! That's not poetry maybe, but it's the truth." Laura came over to where her husband lay, and sat by him, and took his head in her lap, smoothing his forehead with her long white hands. "Oh, if I could only keep you like this always," she murmured. "Keep you untroubled, and kind, and true. This is my husband again. Oh, you are a man, Curtis; a great, strong, kind-hearted man, with no little graces, nor petty culture, nor trivial fine speeches, nor false sham, imitation polish. I love you. Ah, I love you, love you, dear!" "Old girl!" said Jadwin, stroking her hand. "Do you want me to read to you now?" she asked. "Just this is pretty good, it seems to me." As he spoke, there came a step in the hall and a knock. Laura sat up, frowning. "I told them I was not to be disturbed," she exclaimed under her breath. Then, "Come in," she called. "Mr. Gretry, sir," announced the servant. "Said he wished to see you at once, sir." "Tell him," cried Laura, turning quickly to Jadwin, "tell him you're not at home--that you can't see him." "I've got to see him," answered Jadwin, sitting up. "He wouldn't come here himself unless it was for something important."