The old man laughed helplessly.  “But I can’t let him bring you home, my dear.”

She came to him slowly and laid her hands upon his shoulders.  Grandfather and granddaughter were nearly of the same height, and she looked squarely into his eyes.  “Then you must say it is because you want to come for me, not because I mustn’t come with Joe.”

“But I think it is a little because you mustn’t come with Joe,” he answered, “especially from the Pikes’.  Don’t you see that it mightn’t be well for Joe himself, if the Judge should happen to see him?  I understand he warned the boy to keep away from the neighborhood entirely or he would have him locked up for dice-throwing.  The Judge is a very influential man, you know, and as determined in matters like this as he is irritable.”

“Oh, if you put it on that ground,” the girl replied, her eyes softening, “I think you’d better come for me yourself.”

“Very well, I put it on that ground,” he returned, smiling upon her.

“Then I’ll send Joe word and get supper,” she said, kissing him.

It was the supper-hour not only for them but everywhere in Canaan, and the cold air of the streets bore up and down and around corners the smell of things frying.  The dining-room windows of all the houses threw bright patches on the snow of the side-yards; the windows of other rooms, except those of the kitchens, were dark, for the rule of the place was Puritanical in thrift, as in all things; and the good housekeepers disputed every record of the meters with unhappy gas-collectors.

There was no better housekeeper in town than Mrs. Louden, nor a thriftier, but hers was one of the few houses in Canaan, that evening, which showed bright lights in the front rooms while the family were at supper.  It was proof of the agitation caused by the arrival of Eugene that she forgot to turn out the gas in her parlor, and in the chamber she called a library, on her way to the evening meal.

That might not have been thought a cheerful feast for Joe Louden.  The fatted calf was upon the board, but it had not been provided for the prodigal, who, in this case, was the brother that stayed at home:  the fete rewarded the good brother, who had been in strange lands, and the good one had found much honor in his wanderings, as he carelessly let it appear.  Mrs. Louden brightened inexpressibly whenever Eugene spoke of himself, and consequently she glowed most of the time.  Her husband—­ a heavy, melancholy, silent man with a grizzled beard and no mustache—­lowered at Joe throughout the meal, but appeared to take a strange comfort in his step-son’s elegance and polish.  Eugene wore new evening clothes and was lustrous to eye and ear.

Joe escaped as soon as he could, though not before the count of his later sins had been set before Eugene in detail, in mass, and in all of their depth, breadth, and thickness.  His father spoke but once, after nodding heavily to confirm all points of Mrs. Louden’s recital.