"What's he like, Rose?" asked Myrna, arriving breathlessly with the chafing-dish. Myrna was twelve and seemed to labor under the constant apprehension that she was missing something, due no doubt to the fact that she was invariably dispatched on an errand when anything interesting was pending. "Don't know," said Rose; "the hall was pitch-dark. He's got a nice voice, though, and a dandy handshake." "I bid to sit next to him at supper," said Myrna, hugging herself in ecstasy. "You can if you promise not to take two helps of the Welsh rabbit." Myrna refused to negotiate on any such drastic terms. "Are we going to have a fire in the sitting-room?" she asked. "I don't know whether there is any more wood. Papa Claude promised to order some. You go see while I set the table. I've a good notion to call over the fence and ask Fan Loomis to come to supper." "Oh, Rose, _please_ do!" cried Myrna. "I won't take but one help." Cass, in the meanwhile, was making his guest at home in the sitting-room by permitting him to be useful. "You can light the lamp," he said, "while I make a fire." Quin was willing to oblige, but the lamp was not. It put up a stubborn resistance to all efforts to coax it to do its duty. "I bet it hasn't been filled," said Cass; then, after the fashion of mankind, he lifted his voice in supplication to the nearest feminine ear: "Oh! Ro--ose!" His older sister, coming to the rescue, agreed with his diagnosis of the case, and with Quin's assistance bore the delinquent lamp to the kitchen. "Hope you don't mind being made home-folks," she said, patting the puffs over her ears and looking at him sideways. "Mind?" said Quin. "If you knew how good all this looks to me! It's the first touch of home I've had in years. Wish you'd let me set the table--I'm strong on K. P." "Help yourself," said Rose; "the plates are in the pantry and the silver in the sideboard drawer. Wait a minute!" She took a long apron from behind the door and handed it to him. "How do these ends buckle up?" he asked, helplessly holding out the straps of the bib. "They button around your little neck," she told him, smiling. "Turn round; I'll fix it." "Why turn round?" said Quin. Their eyes met in frank challenge. "You silly boy!" she said--but she put her arms around his neck and fastened the bib just the same. How that supper ever got itself cooked and served is a marvel. Everybody took a turn at the stirring and toasting, everybody contributed a missing article to the table, and there was much rushing from kitchen to dining-room, with many collisions and some upsets. Quin was in the highest of spirits. Even Cass had never seen him quite like this. With his white apron over his uniform, he pranced about, dancing attendance on Rose, and keeping Myrna and Edwin in gales of laughter over his antics. Every now and then, however, his knees got wabbly and his breath came short, and by the time supper was prepared he was quite ready to sit down.