THE TWILIGHT GUESTS
"And then we went in!" said the old man softly. "Then we went in! And her mother stood waiting for us. Rachel would not look up and I had to lead her by the hand. She feared that we could not make it plain, that her mother would scold us"
The youth laughed aloud. "But did she?" he said.
And the old man laughed too.
"No. She came to me and kissed me and then she held Rachel and cried. But not that she was sorry. Older people feel strange when the younger ones start away, you see."
The young man picked up the roses and laid them again by the side of the couch. "Sleep," he said softly, "and dream of her!" And the old man's eyelids drooped and the hands that held the roses relaxed in quiet sleep.
When he awoke the sun had almost set. The path of rays had faded and the creeping shadow had covered the highest step and lay along the porch. He felt feebly for the roses, but they were gone. And the sweet warm scent of them was only
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