As I comes back from the front door after seeing him safely off, Mr. Dallas is waiting for me in the middle of the floor with a grin on his face, which it mighty near splits his face in half across the middle. He lays down the agreement paper and the artillery so he can shake hands with me with both hands. "Jeff," he says, "for the second time in less than two hours let me tender you my earnest congratulations and my everlasting gratitude. Thanks to you," he says, "and you alone, I'm getting out of the double-barreled hole I was in, reasonably intact. What's gone I'll gladly charge up to profit and loss and valuable experience. What's left is a whole lot more than I had dared to hope it would be before you took a hand. When I look back on my feelings last night and contrast them with my feelings today--say, by Jupiter!" he says, "come to think of it, it's all happened between late dinner-time of one day and late lunch-time of the next! It doesn't seem possible! What can I do to square myself with you for the debt I owe you?" "Well, suh," I says, "you mout start in to please me by eatin' a lil' somethin'. Yore speakin' of lunch-time 'minds me 'at you ain't been right constant at yore meals lately. Whut you needs," I says, "is to git yore appetite back an' stow a smidgin' of warm vittles down yore insides." "Jeff," he says, still hanging onto my hands and pumping 'em so fervent it makes me feel right diffident for him to be doing so, "you're the doctor and your prescriptions suit me. Bring on the grub! Say it with chowders! We'll celebrate," he says, "over the festal hot biscuits! What, ho, for the wassail waffles!" And with that he goes prancing about over the room dragging me along with him, like he was, say, about nine years old, going on ten. CHAPTER XXI _Headed Home_ For a fact, that meal which he eats is more like a celebration than a regulation meal, but considering of everything, I reckon that's no more than what is to be expected. He's half way through with his second helpings of the lamb chops when he looks up at me where I'm standing back of his chair and he says to me with one of them old-time little-boy twinkles in his eye, like he used to have: "Jeff," he says, "you certainly can paint a fanciful picture when you set yourself to it. When I think of the blood-thirsty characteristics which you bestowed upon those devout and peace-loving ancestors of mine I have to stop eating and laugh again." "You must a-been lis'senin' 'en," I says. "I overheard part of the tale from behind the portieres," he says. "Oh, but it was great stuff, and highly convincing! Even in that crucial moment I could appreciate your deft touches."