in the morning to his chair by the window. The cold of the room was gone. Heavenly odours and fragrant mildness entered.
In hurried Mrs. Widdup, and stood by his chair. Mr. Coulson reached his bony hand and grasped her plump one.
“Mrs. Widdup,” he said, “this house would be no home without you. I have half a million dollars. If that and the true affection of a heart no longer in its youthful prime, but still not cold, could———”
“I found out what made it cold,” said Mrs. Widdup, leaning against his chair. “’Twas ice—tons of it—in the basement and in the furnace room, everywhere. I shut off the registers that it was coming through into your room, Mr. Coulson, poor soul! And now it’s May-time again.”
“A true heart,” went on old man Coulson, a little wanderingly, “that the springtime has brought to life again, and—but what will my daughter say, Mrs. Widdup?”
“Never fear, sir,” said Mrs. Widdup, cheerfully, “Miss Coulson, she ran away with the iceman last night, sir!”
