"A bosom friend," he parried. Again they laughed and grew more acquainted. Miss Theodosia made tea in her dainty Sèvres cups. The faintest flecks of pink made her face youthful. Miss Theodosia was a good-looking woman always, but, animated, her face was really lovely. John Bradford was better used to paper women, like paper babies, but his taste recognized flesh-and-blood attractiveness. He had always been a lonely man--until now. "I'm having a beautiful time," he sighed. "Is it anything to be ashamed of, to have a beautiful time?" "Or two cups of tea? Please! This is my company tea--warranted good to write stories on!" "Oh--stories. Are there such things? Did I ever write one? Have I got to write another?" "It's the twenty-eighth," Miss Theodosia reminded demurely. "But you will need another cup of tea. How long does it take?" "To drink another cup?" "To write another story. Tell me about it. Perhaps I could do it. You take a blotter and a pen and plenty of half-sheets of paper--'tracts,' Evangeline calls them! Then you write 'Good Lord!' That is what Evangeline says you wrote on a tract! She said maybe it was a sermon." "Oh--Evangeline! And speaking of angels--" "Mercy gracious! You're here--both o' you! An' somebody's gone an' spilled a drop of somethin' on that beautiful bosom!" "A tear-drop, Evangeline, because she wouldn't give it to me." "Tea drop!" sniffed Evangeline. "Guess I know! After all Stefana's work! Miss Theodosia, can Elly Precious eat your grass? He's out there now. He don't really eat it; he just kind of pretends. Mother says Elly Precious ought to be put out to pasture. We haven't got any grass to speak of, over to our house." "Don't speak of it! Of course he can eat mine, if you think it is edible. Ask the Reformed Doctor." "Him a doctor? Mercy gracious--honest? Then he knows if Elly Precious'd ought to eat grass--not really eat, you know." "Just graze a little--let him graze." The Reformed Doctor rose to his feet and held out his hand to Miss Theodosia. "I'll go out and see how he does it. It's lucky Evangeline came in, or I might not have known enough to go at all. I've had a beautiful time. I'll put you in with the bedful of kiddies." "And the clothes basket?" "And the clothes basket." "You haven't got your shirt--mercy gracious! I thought that's what you came after," reminded Evangeline. "Was it?" the Reformed Doctor said. "Give it to me, Evangeline." "Not naked! Without wrappin' up! I never did see!" "It's such a good-looking shirt--well, then, wrap it up, wrap it up. I've got a newspaper in my pocket. Put that round it, Evangeline." He turned again to his hostess. "It will be a good story if I put--the clothes basket--in it. They won't send it back. Good-by."