"Beefsteak, by all that's crazy!" shouted James Macauley, eying the
generous expanse of raw meat upon the platter with undisguised delight.
He forgot his sulkiness in an instant, and slapped his friend upon the
back with a resounding blow. "Bully for Red!" he cried.

"Well, well! Of all the wild ideas!" murmured Arthur Chester. But he sat
up in his chair, and his expression grew definitely more cheerful.

Winifred laughed out with anticipation. "Oh, how good that will taste!"
she exclaimed, hugging herself in her own pretty arms. "It is just what
we want, after wearing ourselves out being agreeable. Who but Red would
ever think of such a thing, at this time of night?"

"I believe it will taste good," and Martha Macauley laid her head back at
last against the encompassing comfort of the chair she sat in, and for
the first time relaxed from the duties of hostess and the succeeding
defence of her hospitality.

"Don't you want my help, Red?" his wife asked him, at his elbow.

He turned and looked at the gray gauze gown. "I should say not," said he.
"Lie back, all of you, and take your ease, which you have richly earned,
while I play _chef_. Nothing will suit me better. I'm boiling over with
restrained emotion, and this will work it off. Lie back, while I imagine
that it's one of the male guests who bored me whom I'm grilling now. I'll
do him to a turn!"

He proceeded with his operations, working the quick fire of cannel which
Macauley had started into a glowing bed of hot coals. He improvised from