CHAPTER II.
FRED.
A cold, dreary November rain was driving against the windows, and the heavy, dull drops chased one another down the glass. Within the room all was bright and warm, with a cheerful fire in the grate. The double parlors were richly and tastefully furnished, yet they were far from attractive, for their very elegance made more noticeable their lack of homelike cosiness. No pets were ever allowed to invade their sanctity, no work-basket of mending ever encumbered one of their tables. The very books and papers were always carefully returned to their accustomed places, though they were to be taken up again ten minutes later. The glowing coals shone on only one object in any way suggestive that the room was ever entered except to sweep and dust it.
In the back parlor a low, broad sofa was drawn up before the fire, and on it lay a boy of
