“What is it?” asked the carrier in alarm.
“Hush! I’ll show you if you’ll come with me.”
The carrier accompanied him without another word. They went across the yard, where the stars were shining, and by a little side door they entered Tackleton’s own counting-house. There, through a window, they could look into a window of the wareroom where the boxes of toys were kept. The counting-house was closed for the night, and there was no light, but a dim light was burning in the wareroom, so they could easily see within.
“Wait a moment!” said Tackleton. “Can you bear to look through that window, do you think?”
“Why not?” asked the carrier.
“It will be a shock,” said Tackleton. “Promise not to do anything violent.”
And then John looked, and what do you think he saw?
He saw his dear young wife with the old man—old no longer, but straight and handsome, holding in his hands his soft white hair with which he had made every one think him old and treat him so kindly. He saw her listening to him as he bent his head to whisper in her ear, and then let him place his arm about her waist and lead her slowly to the door. He saw her, with her own hands, adjust the wig on his head, laughing as she did so!
John felt weak as an infant as Tackleton led him back to the house.
He was wrapped up to the chin and busy with his horse and parcels when she came into the room, ready for going home.