Toward Ariel’s own house they sped with the stricken octogenarian, for he was “alone in the world,” and she would not take him to the cottage where he had lived for many years by himself, a bleak little house, a derelict of the “early days” left stranded far down in the town between a woollen-mill and the water-works.  The workmen were beginning their dinners under the big trees, but as Sam Warden drew in the lathered horses at the gate, they set down their tin buckets hastily and ran to help Joe lift the old man out.  Carefully they bore him into the house and laid him upon a bed in one of the finished rooms.  He did not speak or move and the workmen uncovered their heads as they went out, but Joe knew that they were mistaken.  “It’s all right, Mr. Arp,” he said, as Ariel knelt by the bed with water and restoratives.  “It’s all right.  Don’t you worry.”

Then the veteran’s lips twitched, and though his eyes remained closed, Joe saw that Eskew understood, for he gasped, feebly:  “Pos-i-tive-ly—­no—­ free—­seats!”

To Mrs. Louden, sewing at an up-stairs window, the sight of her stepson descending from Judge Pike’s carriage was sufficiently startling, but when she saw Mamie Pike take Respectability from his master’s arms and carry him tenderly indoors, while Joe and Ariel occupied themselves with Mr. Arp, the good lady sprang to her feet as if she had been stung, regardlessly sending her work-basket and its contents scattering over the floor, and ran down the stairs three steps at a time.

At the front door she met her husband, entering for his dinner, and she leaped at him.  Had he seen?  What was it?  What had happened?

Mr. Louden rubbed his chin-beard, indulging himself in a pause which was like to prove fatal to his companion, finally vouchsafing the information that the doctor’s buggy was just turning the corner; Eskew Arp had suffered a “stroke,” it was said, and, in Louden’s opinion, was a mighty sick man.  His spouse replied in no uncertain terms that she had seen quite that much for herself, urging him to continue, which he did with a deliberation that caused her to recall their wedding-day with a gust of passionate self-reproach.  Presently he managed to interrupt, reminding her that her dining-room windows commanded as comprehensive a view of the next house as did the front steps, and after a time her housewifely duty so far prevailed over her indignation at the man’s unwholesome stolidity that she followed him down the hall to preside over the meal, not, however, to partake largely of it herself.

Mr. Louden had no information of Eugene’s mishap, nor had Mrs. Louden any suspicion that all was not well with the young man, and, hearing him enter the front door, she called to him that his dinner was waiting.  Eugene, however, made no reply and went up-stairs to his own apartment without coming into the dining-room.