Mr.Anderson's brow foreboded a storm, Mrs.Anderson's face was full of an earthquake, Cynthy Ann was sitting in shadow, and Julia's countenance perplexed him.

Whether she was angry with him or not, he could not be sure.

Of one thing he was certain: she was suffering a great deal, and that was enough to make him exceedingly unhappy.
Sitting through his hurried meal in this atmosphere surcharged with domestic electricity, he got the notion--he could hardly tell how--that all this lowering of the sky had something to do with him.

What had he done?
Nothing.

His closest self-examination told him that he had done no wrong.