threadbare. And you have many suits--"

"Five," I corrected, "counting in the dark gray fishing outfit with
the draggled pockets."

"And he has none, no home, nothing--"

"Not even a Sunflower,"--putting my arm around her,--"wherefore he
is deserving of all things. Give him the black suit, dear--nay, the
best one, the very best one. Under high heaven for such lack there
must be compensation!"

"You ARE a dear!" And the Sunflower moved to the door and looked
back alluringly. "You are a PERFECT dear."

And this after seven years, I marvelled, till she was back again,
timid and apologetic.

"I--I gave him one of your white shirts. He wore a cheap horrid
cotton thing, and I knew it would look ridiculous. And then his
shoes were so slipshod, I let him have a pair of yours, the old ones
with the narrow caps--"

"Old ones!"

"Well, they pinched horribly, and you know they did."

It was ever thus the Sunflower vindicated things.

And so Leith Clay-Randolph came to Idlewild to stay, how long I did