Old Man Shaw was unhappy enough that night to have satisfied even Mrs. Blewett had she known . He saw himself as he thought White Sands folk must see him -- a poor , shiftless , foolish old man , who had only one thing in the world worthwhile , his little girl , and had not been of enough account to keep her . `` Oh , Blossom , Blossom ! '' he said , and when he spoke her name it sounded as if he spoke the name of one dead . After a little the worst sting passed away . He refused to believe long that Blossom would be ashamed of him ; he knew she would not . Three years could not so alter her loyal nature -- no , nor ten times three years . But she would be changed -- she would have grown away from him in those three busy , brilliant years . His companionship could no longer satisfy her . How simple and childish he had been to expect it ! She would be sweet and kind -- Blossom could never be anything else . She would not show open discontent or dissatisfaction ; she would not be like Lauretta Bradley ; but it would be there , and he would divine it , and it would break his heart . Mrs. Blewett was right . When he had given Blossom up he should not have made a half-hearted thing of his sacrifice -- he should not have bound her to come back to him . He walked about in his little garden until late at night , under the stars , with the sea crooning and calling to him down the slope . When he finally went to bed he did not sleep , but lay until morning with tear-wet eyes and despair in his heart . All the forenoon he went about his usual daily work absently . Frequently he fell into long reveries , standing motionless wherever he happened to be , and looking dully before him . Only once did he show any animation . When he saw Mrs. Blewett coming up the lane he darted into the house , locked the door , and listened to her knocking in grim silence .
After she had gone he went out , and found a plate of fresh doughnuts , covered XXXXX a napkin , placed on the bench at the door .
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