"Called at your office and learned that you were loafing on the job again, and that I might find you up here, visiting a baby--for a change," he ran on, as he entered after the manner of one who feels himself perfectly at home. Then he caught sight of Rose, blushed like a girl himself and stammered, "Oh, I beg pardon. I didn't know that I was ..." "You're not," laughed Donald, seizing the newcomer's hand with a vicelike grasp. "Come in. I've told you about my little mountain rose, and now is your chance to meet her, for here she is. Smiles, this is my closest friend and associate, Dr. Philip Bentley--the man who steps into my shoes when I am summarily ordered to board the next train for the Cumberland Mountains, or elsewhere." "Who steps into his practice, perhaps, but not into his shoes, Miss Rose," added the other. "I could not fill _them_, figuratively or physically." "Go ahead, make all the fun of me that you like," answered Donald. "I'm not ashamed of having a broad understanding." "You would not think Dr. Donald's boots large if you could have seen my Granddaddy's," interposed Smiles, pretending to think that reflection was being cast upon her idol. "I could get _both_ my feet inside one of them--really I could." "I don't wonder," answered Philip with a return to seriousness. And the girl hastily tucked her diminutive shoes underneath her chair, as she saw the man's gaze fastened upon them. For nearly an hour she lived in unaccustomed delight, as she listened to the merry badinage of this group of educated city dwellers and, although it was something new to her, her quick mind soon realized that Philip was a most entertaining conversationalist, with a wit like a rapier which flashed and touched, but never hurt, and that Donald, in his slower way, possessed a dry humor which she had not suspected. At the end of that time a telephone call came for Donald which sent him forth, pretending to grumble over the lack of consideration of modern children, who insisted upon getting sick at the most inconvenient times, and of their parents, who permitted it. "Your loss, my gain," chuckled Philip. "I'll be only too pleased to take Miss Rose home." "Indeed, I'll not allow such a thing," promptly responded Ethel. "Rose stays here for dinner, and _you're_ not invited. This is to be strictly a family party." "'Family?' Is Don going to be a Mormon, then?" challenged Philip. It was Rose, who--blushing prettily--answered, "I hope not, for he is my brother, too, by blood adoption." And she told the story. "Then why can't _I_ be? I'm ready, nay, anxious, to shed quarts and quarts of blood to attain a like relationship," persisted Philip. And thus the conversation ran on through dinner, for Ethel relented and allowed Dr. Bentley to remain, and, as Donald was again summoned away, it was he who, after all, took Rose to the Merriman apartment.