But as he thought about that news, Roger’s mood completely changed.  The talk of the evening grew remote, his family no longer real, mere little figures, shadowy, receding swiftly far away....  Much quieter now, he lay a long time listening to the life of the house, the occasional sounds from the various rooms.  From the nursery adjoining came little Bruce’s piping laugh, and Roger could hear the nurse moving about.  Afterwards for a long time he could hear only creaks and breathings.  Never had the old house seemed so like a living creature.  For nearly forty years it had held all that he had loved and known, all he had been sure of.  Outside of it was the strange, the new, the uncertain, the vast unknown, stretching away to infinity....

Again he heard Bruce’s gay little laugh.  What did it remind him of?  He puzzled.  Then he had it.  Edith had been a baby here.  Her cradle had been in this very room, close by the bed.  And how she had laughed!  What gurgles and ripples of bursting glee!  The first child in his family....

CHAPTER XXXVII

On the next day, which was Sunday, Deborah made an appointment with her father’s physician, and had a long talk with him at his house.  Upon her return she went to her room and stayed there until evening, but when she came down to supper her manner was as usual.  At the table she joined in the talk of Edith and the children, already deep in their preparations for the move up to the farm.  George could hardly wait to start.  That life would be a change indeed in Edith’s plans for her family, and as they talked about it now the tension of hostility which had so long existed between the two sisters passed away.  Each knew the clash had come to an end, that they would live together no more; and as though in remorse they drew close, Deborah with her suggestions, Edith in her friendly way of taking and discussing each one.  Then Deborah went again to her room.  Her room was just over Roger’s, and waking several times in the night he heard his daughter walking the floor.

The next day she was up early and off to her school before he came down.  It was a fine spring morning, Roger had had a good night’s sleep, and as he walked to his office he was buoyed up by a feeling both of hope for his daughter and of solid satisfaction in himself as he remembered all that he had said to her.  Curiously enough he could recall every word of it now.  Every point which he had made rose up before him vividly.  How clear he had been, how simple and true, and yet with what a tremendous effect he had piled the points one on the other.  “By George,” he thought with a little glow, “for a fellow who’s never been in a pulpit I put up a devilish strong appeal.”  And he added sagely, “Let it work on the girl, give it a chance.  She’ll come out of this all right.  This idea some fellows have, that every woman is born a fool, isn’t fair, it isn’t true.  Just let a line of argument be presented to her strong and clear—­straight from the shoulder—­by some man—­”