“Why should he go clothed in silk and you in cotton!” cried Evadne, jealous for the rights of her friend.

Mrs. Everidge’s eyes came back from one of their long journeys, “Oh, I have learned the luxury of doing without,” she said lightly.

Evadne threw her arms around her impulsively.  “But why, oh, Aunt Marthe, why should not Uncle Horace learn it too?”

“We do not see things through the same window,” she answered with a smile and a sigh.

CHAPTER XII.

John Randolph walked slowly through the soft dawning.  It had been a brilliant night.  The late moon had risen as he was bidding good-bye to the graceful creatures he should never see again, and Hollywood had been clad in a bewitching beauty which made it all the harder to say farewell.  Far into the night he had lingered, visiting every corner of the dearly loved home, then at last he had turned away and walked steadily along the road which led to Marlborough.

The sun rose in a blaze of splendor and the birds began to twitter.  The gripsack which he carried grew strangely heavy, and he felt faint and weary.  The long strain of the day before was beginning to tell upon him, and it was many hours since he had tasted food.

A sudden turn of the road brought him in sight of a trig little farm, against whose red gate a man was leaning, leisurely enjoying the beauty of the morning before he began work.  He had a pleasant face, strong and peaceful.  No one had ever known Joseph Makepeace to be out of temper or in a hurry.  He would have said it was because he commenced every day listening to the inner voice among the silences of Nature.  Joseph Makepeace was a Quaker.

“Why, John, lad!” he cried, “thou art a welcome sight on this fair morning.  Come in, come in.  Breakfast will soon be ready and thou art in sore need of it by the look of thy face.”  He gave John’s hand a mighty grasp and took his gripsack from him.

“Why, John, hast thou walked far with this load?  Where were all the horses of Hollywood?  Is anything wrong, John?  I don’t like thy looks, lad.”

John’s voice trembled.  “I have left Hollywood” he said.  “Mr. Hawthorne has turned me off.”

“Left Hollywood!  You don’t mean it, John?  Well, well, folks say Robert Hawthorne has not been right in his mind since his boy got hurt.  I believe it now.  It’s a comfort that the great Master will never turn us off, lad.  Thee’d better lie down on the lounge and rest thee a bit, John, while I go and tell mother.”

He entered the spotless kitchen where his wife was moving blithely to and fro.  “Thee has another ‘unawares angel’ to breakfast, Ruth.  It’s a grand thing being on the public road!”

Ruth Makepeace laughed merrily.  “An angel, Joseph?  I hope he’s not like thy last one, who stole three of my best silver spoons!”

“So, so, thee didst promise to forget that, Ruth, if I replace them next time I go to Marlborough.”