manner of the unselfish host.

* * * * *

There were piles and mountains of dishes after that luncheon. They
looked the bigger to us because we had been obliged to leave them for
two hours while we sat upon the porch with our motorists, who said they
always took a good rest in the middle of the day, and made up by running
many extra miles at night. When they had gone, loudly grateful for our
hospitality--two of the men had had to have some more things to eat and
drink before they could get up steam with which to start--the Gay Lady
and I stood in the door of the kitchen and drew our first sighs over the
state of things existing.

"If Cook doesn't get down pretty soon----" said I dejectedly, and did
not try to finish the sentence. Somehow that hasty cookery for five
extra people had been depressing. I couldn't think of a thing that
had been left in the house that would do for dinner--due now in three
short hours.

But the Gay Lady rallied nobly.

"There's plenty of hot water," said she, "and those dishes will melt
away in no time. Then--you're going to have a long sleep, whether we get
any dinner to-night or not."

The Skeptic spoke from behind us. "Here's a fresh recruit," said he in a
jovial tone, which I understood at once was manufactured for the
occasion. We looked around and saw Azalea at his elbow. She was smiling
rather dubiously. I wondered how he had managed it. Afterward I learned