“Paul, what are you thinking about now?” she asked plaintively.
Then he laughed, and looked more like his old self.
“I was thinking that I shall not go away—if Uncle Peter means that I needn’t. And I was thinking how unpleasant things might be if you, ma’am, attended strictly to your own affairs!”
“And I,” said Mr. Lambert, “am thinking that it is time we all went to bed. Gertrude, my dear, I hope that Anna will be able to get everything into order to-morrow. I shall want my desk to be in place especially. And—er—Breakfast at seven, as usual.”
————
And now the doors and windows were locked, and the lights were put out, and the household was silent and slumbering. But the pale reflection of the moonlit snow glimmered through the window upon the scene of the late revelry, and a red glow still shone among the ashes of the fire, throwing a faint red light through the shadows that deepened over the painted face of Great-grandfather Johann. And a well-contented expression that plump, ruddy old face wore—a comfortable, benevolent patriarchal look, as if that excellent old lover of law and order were saying, “And now I think everything is quite as it should be!”
THE END
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JANE LENDS A HAND ***