“I’m afraid he would never see the paper unless we lent him our copy,” replied Miss Mullett, with a smile.  “But surely we might convey by our manner when meeting him on the street that we would be pleased to make his acquaintance?”

“Why, Caroline Mullett!” gasped Eve, in mock astonishment.  “What kind of behavior is that for two respectable maiden ladies?”

“My dear, I’m an old maid, I know, but you’re not.  And if you think for a moment that I’m going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs while there’s a nice-looking bachelor in the next house, you’re very much mistaken.  Dear knows, Eve, I love Eden Village from end to end, but I never heard of an Eden yet that wasn’t better for having a man in it!”

“You’re right,” sighed Eve.  “Do you realize, Carrie, that the only eligible man we know here is Doctor Crimmins?  And he’s old enough to be father to both of us.”

“The Doctor plays a very good hand of cribbage,” replied Miss Mullett, approvingly.  And then triumphantly:  “I have it, dear!”

“What?”

“The Doctor shall call on Mr. Herrick and bring him to see us!”

“Splendid!” laughed Eve.  “And he will never know that we schemed and intrigued to get him.  Carrie, I don’t see how, with your ability, you ever missed marriage.”

“I never have missed it,” replied Miss Mullett, with a sniff.  She took up her hat and started toward the hall.  At the door she turned and seemed about to speak, but evidently thought better of it and disappeared.  Eve smiled.  And then Miss Mullett’s plain, sweet little face peered around the corner of the door, and—­

“Much,” she whispered.

VII.

When Wade came to himself he discovered that he was standing with folded arms staring blankly at the Declaration of Independence which, framed in walnut and gilt, adorned the wall of the sitting-room.  How long he had been standing there he didn’t know.  He swung around in sudden uneasiness and examined the room carefully.  Then he gave a deep sigh of relief.  It was all right this time; this was his own house!  He sank into the green rocker and mechanically began to fill his pipe.  From the floor above came the swish of the broom and Zephania’s voice raised in joyful song: 

  “’I was a wand’ring sheep, I did not love the fold;
  I did not love my Shepherd’s voice, I would not be controlled. 
  I was a wayward child, I did not love my home;
  I did not love my Father’s voice, I loved afar to roam.’”

Wade lighted his pipe, and when he had filled the adjacent atmosphere with blue smoke he groaned.  After that he gazed for a long time at his hands, turning them this way and that as though he had never really noticed them before.  Then he laughed shortly a laugh seemingly quite devoid of amusement, and got up to wander aimlessly about the room.  At last he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and walked over to it, and glared fiercely at the reflection for a full round minute.  Twice he opened his mouth, only to close it again without a sound.  At length, however, the right words came to him.  He looked himself witheringly in the eyes.