“I think that a little more of the manner and appearance of a gentleman would show your relationship better than any amount of brass,” remarked his mother quietly.

Roger was almost through his breakfast, and so, at no great loss, could assume the injured part.  Therefore with a dignity that was somewhat in marked contrast with his rather unkempt appearance he rose and stalked off to the cornfield again.

“Umph,” remarked Mr. Atwood sententiously, as he rose and followed his son.  This apparently vague utterance had for his wife a definite and extended meaning.  She looked annoyed and flurried, and was in no mood for the labors of preparing a second breakfast.

“The men-folks had better not roil me up too much,” she said to her daughter.  “If your father had said No! out and out, I wouldn’t have brought strangers into his home.  But he kinder wanted me to have their money without the bother of having them around.  Now one thing is settled—­he must either help me make it pleasant for these people, or else tell them to leave this very day.”

“And how about Roger?” asked Susan, still under the influence of pique.

“Oh, Roger is young and foolish.  He’s a-growing yet,” and the mother’s severe aspect relaxed.  He was her only boy.

Mr. Atwood, brought face to face with the alternative presented by his practical wife, succumbed with tolerable grace.  In truth, having had his grumble out, he was not so very averse to the arrangement.  He was much like old Gruff, their watch-dog, that was a redoubtable growler, but had never been known to bite any one.  He therefore installed himself as his wife’s out-of-door ally and assistant commissary, proposing also to take the boarders out to drive if they would pay enough to make it worth the while.  As for Roger, he resolved to remain a farmer and revolve in his old orbit.

Mrs. Jocelyn and Mildred were listless and depressed, and time hung heavily on their hands.  They were in that condition of waiting and uncertainty which renders cheerful or systematic occupation wellnigh impossible.  They daily hoped that a letter would come assuring them that Mr. Jocelyn had secured a position that would change all their future for the better, but the letters received recorded futile efforts only, and often despondency; but occasionally there would come a letter full of vague, sanguine hopes that first produced elation and then perplexity that nothing came of them.  His wife found his dejection contagious.  If she had been with him she would have made strenuous efforts to cheer and inspirit, but without an unselfish woman’s strongest motive for action she brooded and drooped.  Belle’s irrepressible vivacity and the children’s wild delight over the wonders of the fields and farmyard jarred upon her sore heart painfully.  She patiently tried to take care of them, but in thought and feeling she could not enter into their life as had been her custom.  Belle was too young and giddy for responsibility,