Out came a well-worn case, and Dick proudly displayed the likeness
of a stout, much bejewelled young woman, with two staring infants on
her knee. In his sight, the poor picture was a more perfect work of
art than any of Sir Joshua's baby-beauties, or Raphael's Madonnas,
and the little story needed no better sequel than the young father's
praises of his twins, the covert kiss he gave their mother when he
turned as if to get a clearer light upon the face. Ashamed to show
the tenderness that filled his honest heart, he hummed "Kingdom
Coming," while relighting his cigar, and presently began to talk
again.

"Now, then, Flint, it's your turn to keep guard, and Thorn's to tell
his romance. Come, don't try to shirk; it does a man good to talk of
such things, and we're all mates here."

"In some cases it don't do any good to talk of such things; better
let 'em alone," muttered Thorn, as he reluctantly sat down, while
Flint as reluctantly departed.

With a glance and gesture of real affection, Phil laid his hand upon
his comrade's knee, saying, in his persuasive voice, "Old fellow, it
_will_ do you good, because I know you often long to speak of
something that weighs upon you. You've kept us steady many a time,
and done us no end of kindnesses; why be too proud to let us give
our sympathy in return, if nothing more?"

Thorn's big hand closed over the slender one upon his knee, and the
mild expression, so rarely seen upon his face, passed over it as he
replied,--