“Oh, nothing,” said the mother. She had drawn her form from her daughter’s embrace and was standing erect. “It doesn’t surprise me in the least. I always knew how brave your father was. Why, when we were engaged he saved a man from—O Betty, Betty, here they come!” It was a cavalcade led by Jack, with outriders on bicycles and followers on foot, surrounding an ancient barouche, on one seat of which Mr. Harlow was solicitously propped up by his son Herbert, his white face, grotesque with scorched hair, smiling quizzical encouragement at his wife. “I’m all right,” he said, in response to her faltering, “O David!” “Such nonsense! I don’t know what all this fuss is about.” “We know, Mrs. Harlow,” said the doctor, as he helped his charge out of the carriage and up-stairs, still protesting, with bandages on his hands and feet. He professed himself as fit as a fighting cock to the wife who sat by his side and gazed at him, while Betty and Herbert received visitors and reporters below with the condescension of those of the blood to the lesser nobility. “Yes, it’s the third time.” Betty’s voice had become attuned to the recital as the afternoon wore on towards dusk. “Once he rescued a man from the rapids in the St. Lawrence River—my uncle said it was one of the most daring deeds he ever witnessed; and another time he stopped a runaway horse, and saved two women from being dashed against a stone wall. And another time, when he was quite a boy, he had a fight with two burglars in the dark, and forced them—— What is it Herbert wants, Syl? I’ll go up-stairs and see. Will you just take this jelly that Mrs. Scovel brought over, and put it where Jack can’t get at it?” “Mother!” She opened the door of the ‘throne-room,’ where the invalid, propped, up among his pillows, with a napkin under his chin, had the air of an enormous infant as his wife fed him with beef tea. “Mother, there’s another reporter down-stairs. Herbert says he wants one of father’s pictures. There’s the telegraph boy riding up—it’s the sixth message we’ve had. Jack, bring it to me here! I’ll open it. It says, ‘Just heard the news. Love and congratulations for our hero.’ It’s from Aunt Kitty. Herbert wired her at once.” “It’s the most fool business I ever heard of,” said the man in the bed, helplessly. “If I’d done anything, I wouldn’t mind, but——” “Yes, dear, don’t excite yourself,” said his wife, in soothing tone. “Betty——” She gave her daughter a warning glance. “I hope we’re through with all this tommy rot,” said Mr. Harlow, as Betty’s footsteps retreated. He did not hear her voice again going on fluently to a fresh batch of visitors: “Once he rescued a man on the St. Lawrence River from a stone wall—I mean the rapids, one of the most daring deeds——” “Min!” “Yes, David.” “Get my coat. Who’s that at the door now?” It was Herbert’s voice this time. “What year was father born in?”