transformed his face, as always.

"I--feel better, this morning," stammered Jennings. "I--want to thank
you. I'm ashamed of the way I talked last night. It was as you said. I
knew better, but I couldn't seem to--to--"

Brown nodded. "Of course you knew better," he said heartily. "We all
know better. Every man prays--at some time or other. It's when we stop
praying that things get dark. Begin again, and something happens. It
_always_ happens. And sometimes the thing that happens is that we get a
good sleep and are able to see things differently in the morning.
Good-bye--and come back to-night."

"Shall I?" Jennings asked eagerly.

"Surely. We'll have oysters to-night, roasted on the half-shell over the
coals in the fireplace. Like 'em?"

"I never ate any that way," admitted Jennings. "It sounds good." And he
smiled broadly, a real smile at last.

"Wait till you try them," promised Brown.




III

BROWN'S BORROWED BABY