"I suppose you haven't guessed something I have to tell you," stammered Helen, presently. Madelene turned her eyes upon her sister-in-law. Then she smiled. "Helen, dearest, aren't you glad about it?" Helen blushed and radiated a smile. "Yes, very, and so is Ebenezer! We both feel as if we have much to be thankful for--and now if you were only happy--" "Oh, Helen, I know I've upset Ebbie a whole lot,--but who else could I go to?... Do tell me when--" "In May, dear," whispered Helen. "I wish you were as happy as I.... But there's the dinner bell. Let's go down." When they entered the dining room, Ebenezer was standing alone, his back to the grate. "Did you say anything to him, Eb?" demanded Madelene. "Certainly, child, but he insists he scarcely knows her. He rehearsed the trouble his sister had before she died--" "Oh, he's told me that, too," interjected Madelene, tartly, "but that wouldn't make him mix her name up with mine, would it, and make him get mad every time I mention her?" "He seems to be very much incensed that any one should accuse him of caring for her," observed Ebenezer. "And Madelene--" Helen went quickly to her sister-in-law. "Dear," she interrupted her husband, "if I were you, I wouldn't say anything more about it to Frederick until you're certain.... Here he comes, now. Do be pleasant to him, both of you." But in spite of Helen's good offices, the first dinner at home was anything but a happy one for the young couple. CHAPTER XXII THE REPUDIATION A week after the arrival of Frederick and Madelene Graves in Ithaca, Tessibel Skinner sat sewing near the kitchen stove and talking to Andy Bishop in the shanty garret. Outside the wind gusted over the lake, the snow birds making shrill, protesting twitters against the coming blizzard. "You ain't mournin' 'bout somethin', kiddie, be ye?" whispered the dwarf from the hole in the ceiling. "A little," she confessed, glancing up at the dwarf, while she knotted the thread. "I air jest thinking how awful it air fer Daddy to sleep so hard. That medicine he takes must be awful strong." "So it air, brat, but he don't suffer," comforted Andy. "Get back, Andy," warned Tess, getting up. "Some one air walkin' in the lane." She could hear the steps plainly, now. Whoever it was paused in front of the shack. When the knock came, she placed her sewing on the chair. With a glance at the attic, she walked forward and took down the bar. The opening door revealed Frederick Graves standing in the falling snow. "I've come back, Tess," he breathed brokenly.