Mother Carey's Chickens
ply impossible to feed an open fire and write a book at the same time. He did n't know that you could write twice as good a book in half the time with an open fire to help you! He did n't know any single one of the myriad aids that can come to you from such cheery, unexpected sources of grace and inspiration!
"For you the hearth-fire glows."
Would the words never stop ringing in his ears? Perhaps, after all, it would look queer to Mrs. Carey (he cared nothing for Popham or Harmon opinion) if he left the children to get home by themselves. Perhaps—
"FOR YOU THE HEARTH-FIRE GLOWS."
Henry Lord, Ph.D., ascended the steps, and plied the knocker. Digby Popham came out of the parlor and opened the front door.
Everybody listened to see who was the late comer at the party.
"Will you kindly tell Miss Olive and Master Cyril Lord that their father has called for them?"
Mr. Lord's cold, severe voice sounded clearly in the parlor, and every word could be distinctly heard.
Gilbert and Nancy were standing together, and Gilbert whispered instantly to his sister:
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