He said nothing about his luck to his family, but let
them attribute his unprecedented good humor to the
news he brought and announced at dinner.

``I met an old friend in the street this afternoon,''
said he. ``He has invited us to take Thanksgiving dinner
with him. And I think it will be a dinner worth
while--the food, I mean, and the wine. Not the
guests; for there won't be any guests but us. General
Siddall is a stranger in New York.''

``There are Siddalls in New York,'' said his wife;
``very nice, refined people--going in the best society.''

Presbury showed his false teeth in a genial smile; for
the old-fashioned or plate kind of false teeth they were
extraordinarily good--when exactly in place. ``But
not my old friend Bill Siddall,'' said he. ``He's next
door to an outlaw. I'd not have accepted his invitation
if he had been asking us to dine in public. But this
is to be at his own house--his new house--and a very
grand house it is, judging by the photos he showed me.
A regular palace! He'll not be an outlaw long, I guess.
But we must wait and see how he comes out socially
before we commit ourselves.''

``Did you accept for me, too?'' asked Mrs. Presbury.

``Certainly,'' said Presbury. ``And for your daughter,
too.''