Richard did not venture to disagree with this opinion, but he privately considered that, enchanting as was the face of Mrs. Robert Gray at eighteen, that of her daughter Roberta, at twenty-four, dangerously rivalled it.

“I could tell better about the likeness if I saw a late picture of Miss Roberta,” he observed, his eyes and mouth grave, but his voice expectant.  Aunt Ruth promptly took the suggestion, and limping daintily away, returned after a minute with a framed photograph of Roberta and Ruth, taken by one of those masters of the art who understand how to bring out the values of the human face, yet to leave provocative shadows which make for mystery and charm.  Richard received it with a respectful hand, and then had much ado to keep from showing how the sight of her pictured face made his heart throb.

When the two visitors rose to go Aunt Ruth put in a plea for their remaining overnight.

“It’s turned colder since you came up this morning, Mr. Kendrick,” said she.  “Why not stay with us and go back in the morning?  We’d be so pleased to entertain you, and we’ve plenty of room—­too much room for us two old folks, now the children are all married and gone.”

To Richard’s surprise his grandfather did not immediately decline.  He looked at Aunt Ruth, her rosy, smiling face beaming with hospitality, then he glanced at Richard.

“Do stay,” urged Uncle Rufus.  “Remember how you took us in at midnight, and what a good time you gave us the two days we stayed?  It would make us mighty happy to have you sleep under our roof, you and your grandson both, if he’ll stay, too.”

“I confess I should like to sleep under this roof,” admitted Matthew Kendrick.  “It reminds me of my father’s old home.  It’s very good of you, Madam Gray, to ask us, and I believe I shall remain.  As to Richard—­”

“I’d like nothing better,” declared that young man promptly.

So it was settled.  Richard drove back to the store and gathered together various articles for his own and his grandfather’s use, and returned to the Gray fireside.  The long and pleasant evening which followed the hearty country supper gave him one more new experience in the long list of them he was acquiring.  Somehow he had seldom been happier than when he followed his hostess into the comfortable room upstairs she assigned him, opening from that she had given the elder man.  Cheerful fires burned in old-fashioned, open-hearthed Franklin stoves, in both rooms, and the atmosphere was fragrant with the mingled breath of crackling apple-wood, and lavender from the fine old linen with which both beds had been freshly made.

“Sleep well, my dear friends,” said Aunt Ruth, in her quaintly friendly way, as she bade her guests good-night and shook hands with them, receiving warm responses.

“One must find sweet repose under your roof,” said Matthew Kendrick, and Richard, attending his hostess to the door, murmured, “You look as if you’d put two small boys to bed and tucked them in!” at which Aunt Ruth laughed with pleasure, nodding at him over her shoulder as she went away.