When　the　nuts　were　servedSilas　broke　his　with　his　fingershis　host　made　one　more　effort　to　draw　Oliver　into　a　discussion；　but　Margaret　stopped　it　by　exclaiming；　suddenly：
  〃Where　shall　Mr。　Horn　smoke；　mother？〃　She　wanted　Oliver　to　herselfthe　family　had　had　him　long　enough。
  〃Why；　does　he　want　to　SMOKE？〃　she　answered；　with　some　consternation。
  〃Yes；　of　course　he　does。　All　painters　smoke。〃
  〃Well；　I　don't　know；　let　me　see。〃　The　old　lady　hesitated　as　if　seeking　the　choice　between　two　evils。　〃I　suppose　in　the　sitting…room。　Nothe　library　would　be　better。〃
  〃Oh；　I　won't　smoke　at　all　if　your　mother　does　not　like　it；〃　Oliver　protested；　springing　from　his　chair。
  〃Oh；　yes；　you　will；〃　interrupted　John。　〃I　never　smoke；　and　father　don't；　but　I　know　how　good　a　pipe　tastes。　Let's　go　into　the　library。〃
  Margaret　gave　Oliver　the　big　chair　and　sat　beside　him。　It　was　a　small　room；　the　walls　almost　hidden　with　books；　the　windows　filled　with　flowering　plants。　There　was　a　long　table　piled　up　with　magazines　and　pamphlets；　and　an　open　fireplace；　the　wall　above　the　mantel　covered　with　framed　pictures　of　weeping…　willows　worked　out　with　hair　of　dead　relatives；　and　the　mantel　itself　with　faded　daguerreotypes　propped　apart　like　half…opened　clam…shells。
  Mr。　Grant　on　leaving　the　dining…room　walked　slowly　to　the　window　without　looking　to　the　right　or　left；　dropped　into　a　chair　and　gazed　out　through　the　leaves　of　a　geranium。　The　meal　was　over。　Now　he　wanted　rest　and　quiet。　When　Mrs。　Grant　entered　the　library　and　saw　the　wavy　lines　of　tobacco…　smoke　that　were　drifting　lazily　about　the　room　she　stopped；　evidently　annoyed　and　uneasy。　No　such　sacrilege　of　her　library　had　taken　place　for　years；　not　since　her　Uncle　Reuben　had　come　home　from　China。　The　waves　of　smoke　must　have　caught　the　expression　on　her　face；　for　she　had　hardly　reached　Oliver's　chair　before　they　began　stealing　along　the　ceiling　in　long；　slanting　lines　until　they　reached　the　doorway；　when　with　a　sudden　swoop；　as　if　frightened；　　and　without　once　looking　back；　they　escaped　into　the　hall。
  The　dear　lady　laid　her　hand　on　Oliver's　shoulder；　bent　over　him　in　a　tender；　motherly　way；　and　said：
  〃Do　you　think　it　does　you　any　good？〃
  〃I　don't　know　that　it　does。〃
  〃Why　should　you　do　it；　then？〃
  〃But　I　won't　if　you'd　rather　I'd　not。〃　Oliver　sprang　to　his　feet；　took　his　pipe　from　his　mouth；　and　was　about　to　cross　the　room　to　knock　the　ashes　from　it　into　the　fireplace　when　Margaret　laid　her　hand　on　his　arm。
  〃No；　don't　stop。　Mother　is　very　foolish　about　some　thingssmoking　is　one　of　them。〃
  〃But　I　can't　smoke；　darling；〃　he　said；　in　an　undertone；　　〃if　your　mother　objects。〃　The　mother　law　was　paramount；　to　say　nothing　of　the　courtesy　required　　of　him。　Then　he　added；　with　a　meaning　look　in　his　eyes〃Can't　we　get　away　some　place　where　we　can　talk？〃　Deaf　mothers　are　a　blessing　sometimes。
  Margaret　pressed　his　handher　fingers　were　still　closed　over　the　one　holding　the　pipe。
  〃In　a　moment；　Ollie；〃　and　she　rose　and　went　into　the　adjoining　room。
  Mrs。　Grant　went　to　her　husband's　side；　and　in　her　gentle　mission　of　peace　put　her　arm　around　his　neck；　patting　his　shoulder　and　talking　to　him　in　a　low　tone；　her　two　yellow…white　curls　streaming　down　over　the　collar　of　his　coat。　Silas　slipped　his　hand　over　his　wife's　and　for　an　instant　caressed　it　tenderly　with　his　cold；　bony　fingers。　Then　seeing　Oliver's　eyes　turning　his　way　he　drew　in　his　shoulders　　with　a　quick　movement　and　looked　askance　at　his　guest。　Any　public　show　of　affection　was　against　Silas's　creed　and　code。　If　people　wanted　to　hug　each　other；　better　do　it　upstairs；　he　would　say；　not　where　everybody　was　looking　on；　certainly　not　this　young　man；　who　was　enough　of　a　mollycoddle　already。
  John；　now　that　Margaret　had　gone；　moved　over　from　the　lounge　and　took　her　seat；　and　the　two　young　men　launched　out　into　a　discussion　of　flies　and　worms　and　fish…bait；　and　whether　frog's　legs　were　better　than　minnows　in　fishing　for　pickerel；　and　what　was　the　best…sized　shot　for　woodcock　and　Jack…snipe。　Oliver　told　of　the　ducking…blinds；　of　the　Chesapeake；　and　of　how　the　men　sat　in　wooden　boxes　sunk　to　the　water's　edge；　with　the　decoy　ducks　about　them；　and　shot　the　flocks　as　they　flew　over。　And　John　told　of　a　hunting　trip　he　had　made　with　two　East　Branch　guides；　and　how　they　went　loaded　for　deer　and　came　back　with　a　bear　and　two　cubs。　And　so　congenial　did　they　find　each　other's　society　that　before　Margaret　　returned　to　the　roomshe　had　gone　into　her　studio　to　light　the　lamp　under　the　tea…kettlethe　two　young　fellows　had　discovered　that　they　were　both　very　good　fellows　indeed；　especially　Oliver　and　　especially　John；　and　Oliver　had　half　promised　to　come　up　in　the　winter　and　go　into　camp　with　John；　and　John　met　him　more　than　half…way　with　a　promise　to　accept　Oliver's　invitation　for　a　week's　visit　in　　Kennedy　Square　the　next　time　he　went　home；　if　that　happy　event　ever　took　place；　when　they　would　both　go　down　to　Carroll's　Island　for　a　crack　at　a　canvas…　back。
  This　had　gone　on　for　ten　minutes　or　moreten　minutes　is　an　absurdly　long　period　of　time　under　certain　circumstanceswhen　Margaret's　voice　was　heard　in　the　doorway：
  〃Come；　John；　you　and　Mr。　Horn　have　talked　long　enough；　I　want　to　show　him　my　studio　if　you'll　spare　him　a　moment。〃
  John　knew　when　to　spare　and　when　not　tooh；　a　very　intelligent　brother　was　John！　He　did　not　follow　and　talk　for　another　hour　of　what　a　good　time　he　would　have　duck…shooting；　and　of　what　togs　he　ought　to　carryspoiling　everything；　nor　did　he　send　his　mother　in　to　help　Margaret　entertain　their　guest。　None　of　these　stupid　things　did　John　do。　He　said　he　would　go　down　to　the　post…office　if　Oliver　didn't　mind；　and　would　see　him　at　supper；　and　Margaret　said　that　that　was　a　very　clever　idea；　as　nobody　had　gone　for　the　mail　that　day；　and　there　were　sure　to　be　letters；　and　not　to　forget　to　ask　for　hers。　Awfully　　sensible　brother　was　John。　Why　aren't　there　more　like　him？
  Entering　Margaret's　studio　was　like　going　back　to　Moose　Hillock。　There　were　sketches　of　the　interior　of　the　school…house；　and　of　the　children；　and　of　the　teacher　who　had　taught　the　year　before。　There　was　Mrs。　Taft　sitting　on　that　very　porch；　peeling　potatoes；　with　a　tin　pan　in　her　lapwould　they　ever　forget　that　porch　and　the　moonlight　and　the　song　of　the　tree…toads；　and　the　cry　of　the　loon？　There　was　Hank　in　corduroys；　with　an　axe　over　his　shoulder；　and　Hank　in　a　broad　straw　hat　and　no　shoes；　with　a　fishing…pole　in　one　hand；　and　Hank　chopping　wood；　the　chips　littering　the　ground。　There　was　Ezra　Pollard　　sitting　in　his　buckboard　with　a　buffalo…robe　tucked　about　him；　and　Samanthy　by　his　side。　And　best　of　all；　and　in　the　most　prominent　place；　too；　there　was　the　original　drawing　of　the　Milothe　one　she　was　finishing　when　Oliver　upset　Judson；　and　which；　strange　to　say；　was　the　only　Academy　drawing　　which　Margaret　had　framedbesides　scores　and　scores　of　sketches　of　people　and　things　and　places　that　she　had　made　in　years　gone　by。
  The　room　itself　was　part　of　an　old　portico　which　had　been　walled　up。　It　had　a　fireplace　at　one　end；　holding　a　Franklin　stove；　and　a　skylight　overhead；　the　light　softened　by　green　shades。　Here　she　kept　her　own　books　ranged　on　shelves　over　the　mantel；　and　in　the　niches　and　corners　and　odd　spaces　a　few　rare　prints　and　proofstwo　Guido　Renis　and　a　Leonardo；　　both　by　Raphael　Morghen。　Against　the　wall　was　an　old。　clothes…press　with　brass　handles；　its　　drawers　filled　with　sketches；　as　well　as　a　lounge　covered　with　chintz　and　heaped　up　with　cushions。　The　door　between　the　studio　and　library　had　been　taken　off；　and　was　now　replaced　by　a　heavy　red　curtain。　Margaret　　had　held　it　aside　for　Oliver　to　enter；　and　it　had　dropped　back　by　its　own　weight；　shutting　them　both　safely　in。
  I　don't　know　what　happened　when　that　heavy　red　curtain　swung　into　place；　and　mother；　father；　sea；　sky；　sun；　moon；　stars；　and　the　planets；　with　all　that　in　them　is；　were　shut　out　for　a　too　brief　moment。
  And　if　I　did　know　I　would　not　tell。
  We　go　through　life；　and　we　have　all　sorts　of　sensations。　　We　hunger　and　are　fed。　We　are　thirsty；　and　reach　an　oasis。　We　are　homeless；　and　find　shelter。　　We　are　ill；　and　again　walk　the　streets。　We　dig　and　delve　and　strain　every　nerve　and　tissue；　and　the　triumph　comes　at　last；　and　with　it　often　riches　and　honor。　All　these　things　send　shivers　of　delight　through　us；　and　for　the　moment　we　spread　our　wings　and　soar　heavenward。　But　when　we　take　in　our　arms　the　girl　we　love；　and　hold　close　her　fresh；　sweet　face；　with　its　trusting　eyes；　and　feel　her　warm　breath　on　our　cheeks；　and　the　yielding　figure　next　our　heart；　knowing　all　the　time　how　mean　and　good…for…nothing　and　how　entirely　unworthy　of　even　tying　her　shoe…　strings　we　are；　we　experience　a　something　compared　with　which　all　our　former　flights　heavenward　are　but　the　flutterings　of　bats　in　a　cave。
  And　the　blessed　John　did　not　come　back　until　black；　dark　night！not　until　it　was　so　dark　that　you　couldn't　see　your　hand　before　you　or　the　girl　beside　you；　which　is　nearer　the　truth；　not　until　the　stout　woman　in　spectacles　with　the　conversational　habit；　had　brought　in　a　lard…oil　lamp　with　a　big　globe；　which　she　set　down　on　Margaret's　table　among　her　books　and　papers。　And　when　John　did　come；　and　poked　his　twice…bles