“Come on down, Ollie, and let me give you a swig at this bottle I brought along with me. I can hear your teeth chatterin’ from here.” “I haven’t got any shoes on,” protested Mr. Baxter. “I’m trying not to make any more noise than I can help. Besides I don’t want Mary to smell liquor on me. No, I can’t come down. I’d never forgive myself if she was to die and me not up here where I could hear her calling for me. Yes, sir—she’s not going to pull through, Joe—she’s not going to get well. I—” “What does Serepty say?” “Serepty? Oh, she says she’s all right and as fit as a fiddle—but I know better. She’s just saying that to brace me up. She—” The door squeaked above him and Mrs. Grimes spoke. “Didn’t I tell you to close that door, Oliver Baxter? Who is that you’re talking to?” “Don’t tell her,” whispered Mr. Sikes, springing nimbly to the door. “She don’t like me anyhow, and—Oh, the danged thing’s stuck! I’ll have to get the broom.” Mr. Sikes hurried to the kitchen and returned with the broom. Baxter was still standing on the stairs, in a listening attitude. “Sh!” he hissed. “Don’t do that? I thought I heard—” He turned and darted up the stairs, leaving Mr. Sikes to his task. Presently he came half way down again and addressed the sweeper, who had just completed his job and was closing the door against the pressing wind. “I’m up here in the spare bedroom, Joe, if you need me for anything. I’ve just been thinking that the house might catch fire with all these stoves going and the wind blowing so hard. If you smell anything burning come up and let me know.” “Just a second, Ollie,” whispered Joseph, from the bottom of the steps. “Is it a boy or a girl?” But Oliver failed to answer. He had disappeared, tiptoeing in his stocking feet past the closed and guarded door at the bend in the hall. His friend went back to his place by the base-burner and sat down. In skirting the table in the center of the room he paused long enough to take a cigar from the box of “Old Jim Crows” that Oliver had purchased for distribution among congratulatory friends. He hesitated a long time before lighting it, however. He knew from past experience that Serepta Grimes objected to men smoking in the house, and, while this was not her house, nevertheless for the time being she was complete mistress of it.