Except for a steady maintenance of prosperity by dint of hard work, the year was uneventful. Autumn passed, and nothing broke the strenuous monotony of the days, not even news of the absent children. Then came an evening in winter when Reuben, Pete, and Harry were sitting in front of the kitchen fire. Reuben and his son were half asleep, Harry was mumbling to himself and playing with a piece of string.

A great quiet was wrapped round the house, and a great darkness, pricked by winking stars. The barns were shut, the steamings of the midden were nipped by brooding frosts—now and then the dull movements of some stalled animal could be heard, but only from the yard; in the house there was silence except for the singing fire, and Harry\'s low muttering which seldom rose into words. Then suddenly there was a knock at the door.

Reuben started, and Pete awoke noisily. Harry was frightened and dropped his string, crying because he could not find it. The knock came again, and this time Pete crossed the room yawning, and opened the door.

For a moment he stood in front of it, while the icy wind swept into the room. Then he dashed back to Reuben\'s chair.

"Father—it\'s Albert!"
 
Reuben sprang to his feet. He was still only half awake, and he rubbed his eyes as he stared at the figure framed in the doorway. Then suddenly he pulled himself together.

"Come in, and shut the door behind you."

The figure did not move. Reuben took a step towards it, and then it tottered forward, and to his horror fell against him, almost bearing him to the floor.

Pete, who had recovered his faculties to some extent, helped support his brother. But he had fainted clean away, and the only thing to do was to let him down as gently as possible.

"Lordy!" said Pete, and stooped over Albert, his hands on his knees.

"You\'re sure that\'s Albert?" asked Reuben, though he really did not doubt it for a moment.

"Course I am. That\'s his face sure enough, though he\'s as thin as wire."

"It\'s nigh fifteen year since he went away. Wot did he want to come back fur?"

"I reckon he\'s half starved—and he looks ill too."

"Well, he\'s swooneded away, anyhow. Can\'t you do something to m?ake him sensible?"

"Poor feller," said Pete, and scratched his head.

Reuben was irritated by this display of sentiment.

"You needn\'t go pitying him, nuther—he\'s a lousy Radical traitor. You do something to m?ake him sensible and out he goes."

At this juncture Albert opened his eyes.

"Hullo," he said feebly.

"Hullo," said Pete. Something in his brother\'s pitiable condition seemed to have touched him.

Albert sat up—then asked for some water.

Pete fetched a jug, which he held awkwardly to Albert\'s lips. Then he helped him to a chair, and began to unlace his boots.
 
"Stop that," shouted Reuben—"he ?un\'t to stay here."

"You\'ll let me stop............