He got no further. His hostess began issuing orders. A few minutes later, Primmie, adequately if not beautifully attired in a man's oilskin “slicker,” sou'wester, and rubber boots, clumped forth in search of the suitcase. She returned dripping but grinning with the missing property. Its owner regarded it with profound thankfulness. He could at least retire for the night robed as a man and a brother. “Everything in there you need, Mr. Bangs?” asked Doctor Powers, briskly. “Oh, yes, quite, quite--ah--thank you. But really--” “Then you and I will go aloft, as old Cap'n Jim would have said. Cap'n Jim Phipps was Miss Martha's father, Mr. Bangs, and there may have been finer men, but I never met any of 'em. All ready? Good! Here, here, don't hurry! Take it easy. Those stairs are steep.” They were steep, and narrow as well. Galusha went first but before he reached the top he was extremely thankful that the sturdy physician was behind to steady him. Miss Martha called to say that she had left a lighted lamp in the bedroom. Beyond the fact that the room itself was of good size Galusha noticed little concerning it, little except the bed, which was large and patchwork-quilted and tremendously inviting. Doctor Powers briskly helped him to undress. The soaked shoes and stockings made the physician shake his head. “Your feet are as cold as ice, I suppose, eh?” he inquired. “Why, a trifle chilled, but nothing--really nothing.” Miss Martha called up the stairs. “Doctor,” she called, “here's a hot-water bag. I thought probably 'twould feel comfortable.” Doctor Powers accepted the bag and returned to the room, shaking his head. “That woman's got more sense than a--than a barn full of owls,” he declared, solemnly. “There, Mr. Bangs, that'll warm up your underpinning. Anything more you want? All right, are you?” “Oh, yes, quite, quite. But really, doctor, I shouldn't permit this. I feel like a trespasser, like--a--a--” “You feel like going to sleep, that's what I want you to feel like. Lucky the rain has driven off the fog or the foghorn would keep you awake. It sounds like the crack of doom down here. Perhaps you noticed it?” “Yes, I did--ah--at least that.” “I shouldn't wonder. Anybody but a graven image would notice the Gould's Bluffs foghorn. Matches right there by the lamp, in case you want 'em. If you feel mean in the night sing out; Martha'll hear you and come in. I'll be on hand in the morning. Good-night, Mr. Bangs.” He blew out the lamp and departed, closing the door behind him. The rain poured upon the roof overhead and splashed against the panes of the two little windows beneath the eaves. Galusha Bangs, warm and dry for the first time in hours, sank comfortably to sleep. He woke early, at least he felt sure it was early until he looked at his watch. Then he discovered it was almost nine o'clock. He had had a wonderful night's rest and he felt quite himself, quite well again, he--