“No, Phil, Tom seems to be on the high road to recovery, now. His wife has a Dane for a cook and she makes the best omelets I ever ate. Can you make good omelets?” said he, turning to Minerva, whose eyes were riveted on this easy mannered friend who had reached our house so late. “Yas’r.” “Pardon my suggesting it, Mrs. Vernon,” said he, turning to my wife, “but would it be asking too much—” “Why, I’m sure Minerva would be delighted to cook you an omelet. She knows what it is to be hungry. Don’t you Minerva?” “Yas’m,” said she, going into the kitchen and setting a match to the fire which was laid in preparation for the morning. “She looks like a good-natured girl—one who would stick to you through thick and thin,” said the burglar in a tone that would easily reach Minerva’s ears. “Minerva’s a very good girl,” said Ethel, sitting down in the chair I had drawn up to the table. We talked on various topics, much as if we had known each other for years, but this was due more to the burglar’s absolute ease of manner than to any self command on our parts. When Minerva came in with a smoking hot omelet he said, “Handsomest omelet I ever saw. If it tastes like _that_ I’ll eat every bit myself. You’re a born cook, Minerva.” Minerva grinned and went into the pantry whence she emerged with bread and butter. As for the burglar he kept up a running fire of talk about supposed friends of ours. “Rather sad, that accident to Tom’s nephew, wasn’t it?” said he. “I hadn’t heard of it,” said Ethel, while I admitted a like ignorance. “Is that so? Tom is no letter writer. Why little Sanderson fell down an elevator shaft and ripped all the buttons off his shoes.” He said this so seriously that it was all Ethel could do to keep a straight face. “And Mary has finally decided to accept Jim Larkins. Seventeen times she had rejected him. Do you think they’ll be happy?” “I hope they will,” said I, and then to make conversation I said, “What’s become of Ed. Cortelyou?” “I’m sorry to say,” said the burglar, with a long face, “that Ed.’s gone to the bad. It doesn’t pay to trust a young man with unlimited money. If I ever succeed in amassing a fortune—not that I feel especially encouraged just now—but if I ever do, I will tie it up so that Charley can not play ducks and drakes with it.” “By the way, do you expect Charley to follow your profession?” said Ethel wickedly and unexpectedly. The burglar helped himself to the rest of the omelet with a roguish grin and said,