“New York'll come near making me remember a lot of things when I'm out of it,” said Mr. Hutchinson, sitting down heavily in his chair and rubbing his head. “Eh, dang it! dang it!” “Don't you let it, Father,” advised Little Ann. “There's never any good in thinking things over.” “You're not as cheerful yourself as you let on,” he said. “You've not got much color to-day, my lass.” She rubbed one cheek a little, trying to laugh. “I shall get it back when we go and stay with grandmother. It's just staying indoors so much. Mr. Tembarom won't be long now; I'll get up and set the table. The things are on a tray outside.” As she was going out of the room, Jim Bowles and Julius Steinberger appeared at the door. “May we come in?” Jim asked eagerly. “We're invited to the oyster stew, and it's time old T. T. was here. Julius and me are just getting dippy waiting up-stairs to hear if he's made good with Galton.” “Well, now, you sit down and be quiet a bit, or you'll be losing your appetites,” advised Ann. “You can't lose a thing the size of mine,” answered Jim, “any more than you could lose the Metropolitan Opera-house.” Ann turned her head and paused as though she were listening. She heard footsteps in the lower hall. “He's coming now,” she announced. “I know his step. He's tired. Don't go yet, you two,” she added as the pair prepared to rush to meet him. “When any one's that tired he wants to wash his face, and talk when he's ready. If you'll just go back to your room I'll call you when I've set the table.” She felt that she wanted a little more quiet during the next few minutes than she could have if they remained and talked at the top of elated voices. She had not quite realized how anxiously she had been waiting all day for the hour when she would hear exactly what had happened. If he was all right, it would be a nice thing to remember when she was in England. In this moderate form she expressed herself mentally. “It would be a nice thing to remember.” She spread the cloth on the table and began to lay out the plates. Involuntarily she found herself stopping to glance at the hall bedroom door and listen rather intently. “I hope he's got it. I do that. I'm sure he has. He ought to.” Hutchinson looked over at her. She was that like her mother, that lass! “You're excited, Ann,” he said. “Yes, Father, I am--a bit. He's--he's washing his face now.” Sounds of splashing water could be heard through the intervening door. Hutchinson watched her with some uneasiness. “You care a lot for that lad,” he said. She did not look fluttered. Her answer was quite candid. “I said I did, Father. He's taking off his boots.” “You know every sound he makes, and you're going away Saturday, and you'll never see him again.” “That needn't stop me caring. It never did any one any harm to care for one of his sort.” “But it can't come to anything,” Hutchinson began to bluster. “It won't do--”