"Why, work, I suppose--at least until I get too tired to work any more."

"You seem to believe in an eight-hour day."

Something in the tone gave Allison an inkling of the fact that his
father was lonely and restless in the big house. When they were abroad,
he had managed to occupy himself pleasantly while Allison was busy, and,
for the first time, the young man wondered whether it had been wise to
come back.

The loneliness of the great rooms was evident, if one looked for it, and
the silence was literally to be felt, everywhere. It is difficult for
two people to be happy in a large house; they need the cosiness
established by walls not too far apart, ceilings not too high, and the
necessary furniture not too widely separated. A single row of books,
within easy reach, may hint of companionship not possible to the great
bookcase across a large room.

"I think," said Allison, "that perhaps this house is too large for us.
Why should we need fifteen rooms?"

"We don't, but what's the use of moving again just now, when we're all
settled."

"It's no trouble to move," returned the young man.

"It might be, if we did it ourselves. I fancy that Miss Rose could give
us a few pointers on the subject of opening an old house."