“Don’t think of it, my dear!  Second-hand arguments are like second-hand coffee,—­the aroma and the strength have disappeared, never to be brought back again.  But if the husband were really here, and the wife had paid well for properly-administered advice, I should say to him, ’Do not fancy that you have done everything for your wife when you have given her house, servants, and clothes; she really wants a little attention now and then.  Try to turn your thoughts away from your more important affairs long enough to notice the pretty morning-wrapper or the well-fitting evening-dress which has cost her some thought for your sake; do not let a change in the furniture or a new ornament in the parlor go unnoticed till the bill comes in.  And while, of course, you claim from her the most ready sympathy in all your interests and enthusiasms, give her, once in a great while, say every year or so, a little genuine interest in the housekeeping trials or dressmaker grievances that meet her at every turn.

“Moreover, I would recommend to you, should your wife happen to have some literary or artistic tastes, not to ignore them entirely because they do not pay so well as your counting-room accounts do, and are not so entertaining to you as billiards.  I would even indulge her by sacrificing a whole evening to her, once in a while, even to the detriment of your own business or pleasure.  Depend upon it, it will pay in the end.”

“Now, Uncle, like Rosalind, you have simply misused your whole sex in your special pleadings, both for and against.  If Herbert were here, I would appeal to him to know if the time can ever come when what I do can be uninteresting to him.  But I know, for myself, that such a thing cannot be.  You are not talking from your own experience, Uncle?” added she, suddenly looking up in his face.

“My dear Alice, were it possible, should it ever seem likely, that my experience might benefit you, how readily I would lay it open before you!  But those who have lived their lives are like the prophets of old,—­their words are believed only when they are fulfilled.  The meaning of life is never understood till it is past.  Like Moses on the rock, our faces are covered when the Lord passes by, and we see only his back.  But look behind you, my darling!”

Alice turned suddenly and her face lighted up into the full beauty of happiness as she saw Herbert standing in the doorway.

“I hope you have room for me, Mr. Delano,” said he, advancing, “for here I am, weather-bound, as well as Miss Alice and Kate.  There is a drizzling rain falling out-of-doors, and your Kentucky roads are fast growing impassable for walkers.”

Uncle John put into words the question that Alice’s eyes had been asking so eagerly.

“Where did you stumble from, my dear fellow,—­and at this time of night, too?”