Richard and Jonathan Leavitt came into the house tugging the feather-bed between them. “We'll put it in the kitchen,” she heard Richard say. They brought in the chest and the bundle of bedding. Then Richard came into the parlor carrying the rocking-chair before him. “You want this in here, don't you?” he said.
“It belongs here,” said Sylvia, faintly. Jonathan Leavitt gathered up his reins and drove out of the yard.
Richard set down the chair; then he went and stood before Sylvia.
“Look here, Sylvia,” said he. Then he stopped and put his hands over his face. His whole frame shook. Sylvia stood up. “Don't, Richard,” she said.
“I never had any idea of this,” said Richard Alger, with a great groaning sob.
“Don't you feel so bad, Richard,” said Sylvia.
Suddenly Richard put is arm around Sylvia, and pulled her close to him. “I'll look out and do better by you the rest of your life, anyhow,” he said. He took hold of Sylvia's veil and pulled it back. Her pale face drooped before him.
“You look—half—starved,” he groaned. Sylvia looked up and saw tears on his rough cheeks.
“Don't you feel bad, Richard,” she said again.
“I'd ought to feel bad,” said Richard, fiercely.