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 "Go ahead," he said. So she sat in his father's chair and started the call, while he watched her. He was paler and his eyes were wider and he was astrain. He was astrain somewhat as he was in that picture which she kept in her room, showing him at his oar at the end of a race.

Jay turned from her and went to a window where the storm offered violence enough to draw away his thoughts to the lake. Her father was on the lake, probably, guiding his great ship through the gale.

"Where's your father?" he inquired, turning to her. "Still with his ship?"

Ellen swung about in Mr. Rountree's swivel chair. "Yes; he ought to be beyond the Straits. Navigation's lasting late this year."

"This'll soon close it," said Jay. "Then he'll be home; you'll all be home for Christmas, won't you?" he asked, attempting to speak in his old, eager way.

"I suppose so," said Ellen dully. Christmas! What would Christmas be to her this year, though she was at home, with Jay Rountree married to Lida Haige?

"Your mother well?" asked Jay.

"Yes."

"And the rest of your family?"

Ellen nodded; and to save herself she could not keep tears from her eyes.

"Some one's not," said Jay, with his swift concern and came closer to her. "Who is it? What's the matter?"

"Nobody!" She tossed the tears away. "They're all right. It's nobody at home. It's here."

"Oh," said Jay, "I've bothered you."