She thought she would wait till he missed it definitely,
and then give him the scrap she had picked up. It lay
in her basket, and after some days it found its way under
the work in it, and she forgot it.
XXIII.
SINCE New Year's there had scarcely been a mild day,
and the streets were full of snow, growing foul under the
city feet and hoofs, and renewing its purity from the skies
with repeated falls, which in turn lost their whiteness,
beaten down, and beaten black and hard into a solid bed
like iron. The sleighing was incomparable, and the air
was full of the din of bells; but Lapham's turnout was not
of those that thronged the Brighton road every afternoon;
the man at the livery-stable sent him word that the mare's
legs were swelling.
He and Corey had little to do with each other.
He did not know how Penelope had arranged it with Corey;
his wife said she knew no more than he did, and he did
not like to ask the girl herself, especially as Corey no
longer came to the house. He saw that she was cheerfuller
than she had been, and helpfuller with him and her mother.
Now and then Lapham opened his troubled soul to her a little,
letting his thought break into speech without preamble
or conclusion. Once he said--
"Pen, I presume you know I'm in trouble."
"We all seem to be there," said the girl.
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