"Cuthbert will not be down this morning, Archibald. I hope thee rested well. Hallam, will thee take thy father's place?"
Mrs. Kaye's manner, as she greeted her kinsman, betrayed little of what must have been her real feeling toward him, nor had her children ever seen her more composed and gentle, though Hallam noticed that she was paler than ever, and that her eyes were dull, as if she had not slept.
"It's going to be a miserable day outside," remarked the guest, a little stiffly.
"Inside, too, I fancy," answered Amy. "I hate undecided things. I like either a cheerful downpour or else sunshine. I think wobbly weather is as bad as wobbly folks—trying to a body's temper."
Mr. Wingate laughed, though rather harshly. Amy was already his favorite in that household, and he reflected that under different circumstances than those which brought him to Fairacres, he would have found her very interesting.
"The weather should not be allowed to affect one's spirits," said Mrs. Kaye.
"No, mother; I suppose not. Yet, it was so pretty here, last night; and now the leaves over the windows are all shrivelled up, while this border on the tablecloth is as crooked as can be. It all has such an afterward sort of look. Ah, it is raining, good and fast."
Mrs. Kaye excused herself and went to look out toward the library. The wind was howling in that direction, and she exclaimed, anxiously:—
"Cleena, go at once and see if it is doing any harm out there! That broken door and window—put something against them, if it is."