“But the house looked poor the next day; empty and cold. The cobbler was off betimes; the little breakfast-fire died out; dust lay on the counter; the tools and the unfinished work were here and there; the wind slipped in and slipped out again; and nothing else paid us a visit, except Sue, who once or twice looked in and looked round, as if to see whether her father were there. Once she came into the room and stood a few minutes, with her little brown head and quiet grave face, looking at the ashes in the fire-place, and the neglected work, and her father’s chair, with a wistful sort of eye. It said, or seemed to say, that however she felt last night, she would be very glad to-day if they were not poor, nor sick, nor separated. She looked pale and weary, too; but she did not stay long to rest or think. Her feet could be heard now and then up-stairs. The cobbler did not come home; the night darkened upon just such an afternoon as the morning had been.
“The next day began in the same manner. Towards noon, however, the outer door opened, and in came a puff of fresh cold air, and another visiter, who looked fresh, but not cold at all. It was a boy about thirteen or fourteen; healthy, ruddy, bright-eyed, well-dressed, and exceeding neat in his dress. He came in like one familiar with the place, and took note of all the unusual tokens about, as if he knew well what was usual and what was unusual. He looked at the cold chimney and scattered work; he went to the foot of the stairs and stood listening a moment; and then coming away from there, he loitered about the room, now going to the window and now to the chimney, evidently waiting. He had to wait a good while, but he waited. At last he had what he wanted; for, tired with being up-stairs, or wanting to gather some news from the outer world, Sue slowly came down the stairs and shewed her little face at the stairway door. And almost before it had time to change, the newcomer had called out,—
“‘Sue!’—
“And with an unknown light breaking all over her face, Sue exclaimed, joyously, ‘Roswald!—’ and springing across to him, laid her sweet lips to his with right good will.
“‘O you’ve got back!’ said Sue, with a gladsomeness it did, or would have done, any one’s heart good to hear.
“‘Here I am. Haven’t I been a long while away?’
“‘O so long!’ said Sue.
“‘But what’s the matter here, Sue? what’s become of you all?’
“‘Why mother’s sick, you know,—she hasn’t got well yet; and father’s away.’
“‘Where is he?’