man to dhress himsilf, an' thin I'll be back. Have no fear--av'rythin's
doin' foine, an' the turrkey's an ilegant brown jist beginnin' to show.
If I'm not back in tin minutes ye moight baste him wanct, but have no
other care."

"I'll be delighted to baste him, thank you," Brown responded. "And I
have no cares at all, with you in charge. I only hope you won't be too
tired to enjoy the dinner. You've been busy every minute since dawn."

"Shure, 'tis the labour of love makes the worrk aisy," she responded, and
then, attacked by a sudden and most unusual wave of shyness, disappeared
out of the door.

Brown, standing with his back to the fire, smiled to himself. Well he
knew that since the suffering three-year-old twin son of the Kelceys had
spent the night in his pitiful arms and in the morning taken a turn for
the better, the entire Kelcey family would have made martyrs of
themselves for his sake. It was quite true that that sort of thing, as
his sister, Mrs. Breckenridge, had intimated, was not precisely in
accordance with the prescription of Dr. Bruce Brainard, distinguished
specialist. But if that night had been his last, Donald Brown could not
have spent it in a way more calculated to give him pleasure as he closed
his eyes. Surely, since life was still his, the love of the Kelceys was
not to be despised.

As he dressed for the dinner Brown considered his attire carefully. He
could not venture to wear anything calculated to outshine the apparel
of his guests, and yet to don the elbow-worn, shiny-backed blue serge of
his everyday apparel seemed not to do them quite honour enough. He had
not many clothes with him, but he had brought one suit of rough homespun,