“What, you here, Gage?”
The man colored up like a boy.
“Glad to see you, sir, and you, ma’am. The old house begins to look itself again.”
“You are right, Gage. Old faces make a welcome surer. We shall want you if you are free.”
“Only too happy, sir. Family man now, sir.”
“What, married!”
“A year last Easter, sir,” and he disappeared up the stairs, carrying the lower end of the trunk.
An hour had passed. Husband and wife had wandered over the whole house together, and found many an old familiar friend that had been saved from the wreck of that disastrous year. The sympathetic touch showed everywhere, a reverent and sensitive spirit had schemed and plotted to retain the past. The coloring of each room was the same as of old; much of the furniture had been rebought; the very pictures were as so many memories. It was home, and yet not the home they had known of yore.
“Does it feel strange to you?”
“Strange?”