“I must first learn to show more patience at home.”

He did not make any reply; but as we were speeding on our way that afternoon in the cars, he came to my side and handed me a small roll of bills.

“Would you like to buy that widower friend of yours a warm suit of clothes for the winter?  Mrs. Flaxman will show you a suitable furnishing establishment.  Philanthropists must do all sorts of things, as you will find.”

“You are very kind after all, Mr. Winthrop.  I wish I could tell you how grateful I am.  Please forgive all my rude speeches—­I hope I will never get provoked with you again.”

“I most certainly hope you will.  A little spice adds greatly to the flavor of one’s daily food.”

He walked away; and first counting my gift, I found, to my surprise, that it amounted to fifty dollars.  I opened my little velvet satchel—­my traveling companion for many a weary mile—­and laid it safely in one of the pockets.  I had plenty of leisure that afternoon for fancy to paint all sorts of pictures.  Mr. Winthrop was at the farther end of the car, with a group of friends he had met; and Mrs. Flaxman, a nervous traveler at the best, was trying to forget the discomforts of travel as she sat with her easy-chair wheeled into a sheltered corner, sleeping as much as possible.  I watched the rapidly disappearing views from my windows, some of them causing pleasant thoughts, and sometimes re-touching memories so remote they seemed like experiences of another existence, which my soul had known before it came under its present limitations.  There were cottages that we flew past, reminding me of the Larkum abode; these I kept wearily peopling with white, sightless faces, and hungry, sad-faced women and children.

When at last my own thoughts were beginning to consume me, Mr. Winthrop came and sat near me.

“Is a journey in the cars equal to an hour spent with your widows?” he asked.

“I have enjoyed the drive.  One sees so much that is new, and is food for thought, only the mind gets wearied with such swift variety.”

He was silent for some time, then, with a complete change of topic he said,

“I have been glad to hear you practicing so industriously on the piano.  Some day you may have a more appreciative audience than Mrs. Flaxman and myself.”

“It has helped to occupy my time.  I do not know that much else has been accomplished.”

“That is not a very wise reason for so occupying your time.”

“One must get through it some way.  In pleasant weather, getting acquainted with nature, in field and garden and by the seashore, was my favorite pastime.”

“It is an indolent way to seek the acquaintance of so profound a mistress:—­merely sunning one’s self under the trees, or listening to the monotonous voice of the sea, sitting on the rocks.”

“In what better way could I discover her secrets?”

“Following in the steps of those who have made her in her varying forms a life long study, and who have embalmed their discoveries in books.”