burst into a laugh, and his good humour came back with a rush.

"Look here, you people. Forget my heroics and come over to our house.
I'll give you something to take the taste of those idiotic little cakes
out of your hungry mouths. No refusals! I'm your best friend, Jim
Macauley, and you know it, so come along and don't act like a small boy
who's had his candy taken away from him. You've plenty of candy of your
own, you know."

He was his gay self again, and bore them away with him on the wave of his
boyish spirits. Across the lawn and into the house they went, the six,
and were conducted into the living-room and bidden settle down around the
fireplace.

"Start a fire, Jim, and get a bed of cannel going with a roar. You'll
find the stuff in that willow basket. Open all the windows, Ches. Then
all make yourselves comfortable and await my operations. I promise you
a treat--from my point of view."

And he rushed away.

"It's my private opinion," growled Macauley, beginning sulkily to lay
the fire, "that that fellow is off his head. He always did seem a trifle
cracked, and to-night he's certainly dippy. What's he going to do with a
fire, at 11 P.M., on a May evening, I'd like to know?"

"Whatever it is, it will be refreshing." Winifred Chester, reckless of
her delicate blue evening gown, curled herself up in a corner of the big
davenport and laid her head luxuriously down among the pillows. "Oh, I'm
so tired," she sighed. "Seems to me I never heard so many stupid things