Hank laughed till the tears came into his eyes. 'Tilda Jane was good, but she was not graceful. Then his merriment over, he began to yawn, and 'Tilda Jane, as keen of observation as ever, immediately espied this sign of fatigue.
She caught up Gippie, who alone showed no pleasure at the prospect of having another inmate of the house, and danced out to the kitchen.
"Come out, grampa dear," she called, "we'll all have a good supper, 'cause this is a most joyful 'casion."
As grampa started to limp out to the kitchen, Hank quietly placed himself by his side.
The old man looked at him. "I'm not sorry you're going to stay," he remarked, gruffly. "They say there's no place like home."
"You'd better believe that's true, father," said Hank, warmly; "a fellow gets sick of hotels and boarding-houses. We'll have some more funds now that I'm going to get at some decent kind of work. You mustn't bother your head about expenses."
The old man sank into his chair with a sigh of relief. His face was working strangely. Last year at this time he was alone and miserable in a cheerless house. Now his son was with him, a brisk young girl was flying about his kitchen, a bright fire burned in the stove, a fire that was not unpleasantly warm to his aged limbs even on this summer night. A white cloth covered his formerly bare and uninviting table; he was going to have pie, and coffee, and toast and cake for supper,—surely the coming of this orphan had been a fortunate thing for him, and he slowly chafed his hands as he gazed at the glowing bed of coals.
Hank was following 'Tilda Jane from kitchen to pantry, and from pantry to kitchen.
"You're getting to be a great housekeeper," he said, admiringly; "but we must not forget the schooling. It's a great thing to be educated. You can't hold your own in this world unless you know something. You wrote me Mrs. Tracy was teaching you some, didn't you?"
'Tilda Jane paused as she filled a sugar-bowl.