“I shall have to scratch round in a lively way before I do get it, for David says a fellow can’t live on less than four or five hundred a year, even living as poor artists have to, in garrets and on crusts.  I don’t mind as long as Grandma is all right.  She is away to-night, or I should not be here,” he added, as if some excuse was necessary.  Merry needed no hint, for her tender heart was touched by the vision of her friend in a garret, and she suddenly rejoiced that there was ham and eggs for supper, so that he might be well fed once, at least, before he went away to feed on artistic crusts.

“Being here, come in and spend the evening.  The boys will like to hear the news, and so will father.  Do, now.”

It was impossible to refuse the invitation he had been longing for, and in they went to the great delight of Roxy, who instantly retired to the pantry, smiling significantly, and brought out the most elaborate pie in honor of the occasion.  Merry touched up the table, and put a little vase of flowers in the middle to redeem the vulgarity of doughnuts.  Of course the boys upset it, but as there was company nothing was said, and Ralph devoured his supper with the appetite of a hungry boy, while watching Merry eat bread and cream out of an old-fashioned silver porringer, and thinking it the sweetest sight he ever beheld.

Then the young people gathered about the table, full of the new plans, and the elders listened as they rested after the week’s work.  A pleasant evening, for they all liked Ralph, but as the parents watched Merry sitting among the great lads like a little queen among her subjects, half unconscious as yet of the power in her hands, they nodded to one another, and then shook their heads as if they said,—­

“I’m afraid the time is coming, mother.”

“No danger as long as she don’t know it, father.”

At nine the boys went off to the barn, the farmer to wind up the eight-day clock, and the housewife to see how the baked beans and Indian pudding for to-morrow were getting on in the oven.  Ralph took up his hat to go, saying as he looked at the shade on the tall student lamp,—­

“What a good light that gives!  I can see it as I go home every night, and it burns up here like a beacon.  I always look for it, and it hardly ever fails to be burning.  Sort of cheers up the way, you know, when I’m tired or low in my mind.”

“Then I’m very glad I got it.  I liked the shape, but the boys laughed at it as they did at my bulrushes in a ginger-jar over there.  I’d been reading about ‘household art,’ and I thought I’d try a little,” answered Merry, laughing at her own whims.

“You’ve got a better sort of household art, I think, for you make people happy and places pretty, without fussing over it.  This room is ever so much improved every time I come, though I hardly see what it is except the flowers,” said Ralph, looking from the girl to the tall calla that bent its white cup above her as if to pour its dew upon her head.