in the morning and another way by noon, is very tiresome. I really do not know what to do with him."
I smiled, because I thought the admission was as good as Mr. Greyfield need desire, for his prospects.
"I think I can understand," I said, "how difficult it must be to get over all the gaps made by so many years of estrangement—of fancied death, even. Had you been looking for him for such a length of time, there would still be a great deal of awkwardness in the meeting, when you came together again."
"Yes," said Mrs. Greyfield, "it is inevitable. The most artistic bit of truth in the Odyssey (you see I have read Homer since you called me Penelope), is where the poet describes the difficulty the faithful wife had in receiving the long-absent, and now changed, Ulysses as her true husband."
"But she did receive him," I interrupted, "and so will you."
"The minister will have to bless the reception then. And to confess the whole truth to you, we are corresponding with my friend of long ago in Portland. He has promised to come down to perform the ceremony, and as his health is impaired, we have invited him to bring his family, at our expense, and to remain in our home while Mr. Greyfield and I, with Benton and Nellie, make a tour to and through Europe."
"How much you and Mr. Greyfield must have to talk over! It will take a year or two of close association to make you even tolerably well acquainted again."
"No; the 'talking over' is tabooed, and that is why we are going to travel—to have something else to talk about. You see I am so unforgiving that I cannot bear to hear Mr. Greyfield's story, and too magnanimous, notwithstanding, to inflict mine upon him. To put temptation out of my way, I proposed this European excursion."
"You are commencing a new life," I said. "May it be
