The Red House was provisioned as if for a siege; and as for the spare feather-beds ready to be laid on floors, they were as plentiful as might naturally be expected in a family that had killed its own geese for many generations.

Godfrey Cass was looking forward to this New Year’s Eve with a foolish, reckless longing that made him half deaf to his importunate companion Anxiety.

“Dunsey will be coming home soon; there will be a great blow-up; and how will you bribe his spite to silence?” said Anxiety.

“Oh, he won’t come home before New Year’s Eve, perhaps,” said Godfrey; “and I shall sit by Nancy then, and dance with her, and get a kind look from her in spite of herself.”

“But money is wanted in another quarter,” said Anxiety in a louder voice, “and how will you get it without selling your mother’s diamond pin? And if you don’t get it…?”

“Well, but something may happen to make things easier. At any rate, there’s one pleasure for me close at hand—Nancy is coming.”

“Yes, and suppose your father should bring matters to a pass that will oblige you to decline marrying her—and to give your reasons?”

“Hold your tongue, and don’t worry me. I can see Nancy’s eyes, just as they will look at me, and feel her hand in mine already.”

But Anxiety went on, though in noisy Christmas company, refusing to be utterly quieted even by much drinking.