“Thank you. Is that all?” said the maid, lingering.

“Yes,” said Cassandra again; then she laid her baby on the bed and began taking his night clothing from her bag.

“How pretty he is! Shan’t I help you unpack, ma’m?”

Cassandra paused, looking dreamily before her as if scarcely comprehending, then she said: “Not to-night, thank you. Perhaps to-morrow.” The maid deftly piled the supper dishes and, taking them and the book with her, departed with a pleasant “Good night, ma’m.”

In spite of her calmness, Cassandra lay wakeful and patient, and when at last she did sleep, it seemed to her she stood with her husband on her father’s path, looking out under overarching boughs, upon blue distances of heaped-up mountain tops, and David’s