Henry had been fired with ambition to produce more than ever before, but that day his spirit had seemed to fail him.

He sat about gloomily all the afternoon; then he went down for the evening mail, and brought home no letters, but the local paper.

Sylvia was preparing supper in the large, clean kitchen.

She had been looking over her new treasures all day, and she was radiant.

She chattered to her husband like a school-girl.
"Oh, Henry," said she, "you don't know what we've got! I never dreamed poor Abrahama had such beautiful things.