"Oh, my dear," she burst forth, "never, never was there such a foolish old woman as I. I'm sure you will not laugh at me if I tell you that the plate just opposite is always set for my busy son in the far West. And lonely nights like this when the rain drips through the pines or the snow polka-dots the lane and the ghostly wind comes rattling my windows, I like to pretend that he's there in his chair, big and gallant and handsome as always, and then I--I sometimes talk aloud to him and pass him the dishes I know he likes. Just a foolish mother's game," she added, flushing hotly, "and I--I do not know why it is I have told you my weakness. Surely," with quick apology, "you must think me very silly indeed!" "Oh, no, no, no!" cried Jean, an odd catch in her voice, "I think it is all very beautiful!" and Aunt Cheerful's face grew radiant. "Do you indeed!" she exclaimed, beaming. "Well, now, I _am_ pleased. I've always feared it was very weak and silly!" Then, suddenly struck by the rich color in her guest's cheeks and the wonderful gentleness that had magically obscured the shadows in the girl's fine eyes, she added delightedly, "Why, how refreshed you are looking, child! Dear me, I do believe I'll keep you over night. No, not a word, my dear! Just hear the rain and the wind. Why bless your heart, that's answer enough!" II "Lord Chesterfield" [Illustration] II THE Emperor retired with a drowsy bubble; the busy Fire-blusterer astride the smouldering log replaced his sword of flame in a sheath of embers, and Aunt Cheerful's room settled into shadowy quiet with only the sleepy glow of the fire to light it. By the window, blocked from the room by a screen, a lamp sent its bright rays through the pines to light the dark of the lane beyond. "And now," exclaimed Aunt Cheerful from her chair by the fire, "is the time, my dear, when I always see my Lady of the Fireglow in her flame-colored satin! Jewels of fire flash about her throat and hair, and very beautiful she is too, I fancy, though to be sure I am never able to catch a glimpse of her face!" Aunt Cheerful smiled across the firelit hearth at the shadowy figure of her guest. "And the third place at the table," she owned wistfully, "is always for her, for somehow to me she is the fire's promise of the kind and beautiful wife who may one day come into my big son's life and therefore into mine!" The clock above the mantel struck nine and to Jean's astonishment a window beside the screen was suddenly raised from the porch side and a boy's head and shoulders appeared, plainly visible in the fan of light from the hidden lamp. Not a very large boy--surely a scant dozen years lay behind him!--but a strangely self-possessed little chap nevertheless, with damp, waving hair, a grim little chin, and cheeks as rosy as the apple of health itself.