“What was her wedding dress?”

Instantly roused, the guest raised bright, pleased eyes.

“The ladies’ question, Warriner,” said he.  “It was silk, my dear, her first silk gown.  Yellowish, or brownish, it was.  And she had one of those little ruffled capes the ladies used to wear.  And a little bonnet—­”

“A bonnet!”

“A bonnet she had trimmed herself.  I remember watching her, when we were engaged, making that trimming.  You don’t see it any more, but that year all the girls were making it.  They made little bunches of grapes out of dried peas covered with chamois skin—­”

“Oh, not really!” ejaculated Anne.

“Indeed, they did.  Then they covered their bonnets with them, and with leaves cut out of the chamois skin.  They were charming, too.  My wife wore that bonnet a long time.  She trimmed it over and over.”  He sighed, but there was a shade of longing as well as pity in his eyes.  “We were young,” he said thoughtfully; “I was but twenty-five; we had our hard times.  The babies came pretty fast.  Rose wasn’t very strong.  I worked too hard, got broken down a little, and expenses went right on, you know—­”

“You bet I know!” Jim said, with his pleasant laugh, and a glance for Anne.

“Well,” said Charles Rideout, looking keenly from one to the other, “thank God for it, you young people!  It never comes back!  The days when you shoulder your troubles cheerfully together,—­they come to their end!  And they are”—­he shook his head—­“they are very wonderful to look back to!  I remember a certain day,” he went on reminiscently, “when we had paid the last of the doctor’s bills, and Rose met me down town for a little celebration.  We had had five or six years of pretty hard sailing then.  We bought her new gloves that day, I remember, and—­shoes, I think it was, and I got a hat, and a book I’d been wanting.  We went to a little French restaurant to dinner, with all our bundles.  And that, that, my dear,—­“he said, smiling at Anne,—­“seemed to be the turning point.  We got into the country next year, picked out a little house.  And then, the rest of it all followed; we had two maids, a surrey, I was put into the superintendent’s place—­” a sweep of the fine hand dismissed the details.  “No man and wife, who do what we did,” said he, gravely, “who live modestly, and work hard, and love each other and their children, can fail.  That’s one of the blessed things of life.”

Jim cleared his throat, but did not speak.  Anne was frankly unable to speak.

“And now I mustn’t keep these children out of bed any longer,” said the older man.  “This has been a—­a lovely afternoon for me.  I wish Mrs. Rideout had been with me.”  He stood up.  “Shall I give you this little fellow, Mrs. Warriner?”

“We’ll put the babies down,” said Jim, rising, too, “and then, perhaps, you’d like to look about the house, Mr. Rideout?”

“But I know how a lady feels about having her house inspected—­” hesitated the caller, with his bright, fatherly look for Anne.