his mother brought a tray of hot supper to the little table before the library fire, whereupon his father would draw her down to him and kiss her.
A great deal of love, always faithful and constant—Gregg liked to feel sure—had made his home. He had always thought of love making pleasant this big, gay home of the Hales; for though he recently had not thought of Mr. and Mrs. Hale loving as his own father and mother did, yet there always appeared to be harmony between them, and a good deal of affection; and they both loved their daughter as she loved them. Marjorie seemed to adore her father, particularly.
He stepped quickly toward the house, where a door was opened and a servant took his things.
"Good evening, Gregg," Mr. Hale's hearty voice welcomed him. "Mighty glad to see you. You came out in the new car to-night, Billy says. How does she act?"
"Why, fine; all right, I guess," said Gregg, giving his hand to the warm, steady clasp of Mr. Hale and feeling an agreeable stir within, as the older man looked at him. Mr. Hale's friendly brown eyes had, as often at a moment of meeting, an expression which seemed to say, "Well, I've not seen you for a day or two; anything happened to you, meanwhile? Apparently not." Gregg always liked that look, and he liked, naturally, the way Marjorie's father always seemed to mention first the subject interesting the other person.
He was almost as tall as Billy, but he had the knack, which Billy lacked, of never impressing his superiority in height over another. To-night, he seemed to be in something even better than his usual good physical trim which he vigorously maintained by golf during three seasons, and by squash or handball every second
