“No,” denied Clive, looking up, apologetically, from his second cup of black coffee. “I came over to sponge on Thax, if he’ll let me. Thax, will it bother you a whole lot if I stay here with you for a few days? I won’t be in the way. And I know you’ve got lots of room, and nobody else is stopping with you. I don’t want to put it on the ‘hotel’ basis. But that’s what gave me the nerve to ask--” “Rot!” exclaimed Thaxton, in forced cordiality. “What’s the use of all that preamble? You’re knocked off your feet. You can’t stay at home. Every inn is full, for ten miles around. I can understand your not wanting to stay with Oz. If you hadn’t come here, I’d have come after you. Of course, you must stay.” As a matter of fact, all Vail’s boyhood friendship for the invalid was called upon, to make the invitation sound spontaneous. He liked Clive. He liked him better than any other friend. Ordinarily, it would have been a joy to have him for a house-guest. The two men had always been congenial, even though they had seen less of each other since their return from France and had abated some of the oldtime boyish chumship. Yet with Doris Lane coming to Vailholme, the host had dreamed of long uninterrupted hours with her. And now the presence of this other admirer of hers would block most of his golden plans. Yet there was no way out of it. In any event Willis Chase’s undesired arrival had wrecked his hopes for sweet seclusion. So the man made the best of the annoying situation and threw into his voice and manner the cordiality he could not put into his heart. He was ashamed of himself for his sub-resentment that this sick comrade of his should find no warmer welcome, in appealing to him for hospitality. Yet the dream of having Doris all to himself for hours a day had been so joyous! While he could not rebuff Clive as he had sought to rebuff Willis Chase, yet he could not be glad the invalid had chosen this particular time to descend upon Vailholme. Sending for Mrs. Horoson, his elderly housekeeper, he bade her prepare the two east rooms for Clive’s reception. “Say!” Chase broke in on the instructions. “You told me that measly magenta room was the only one you had vacant!” “I did not,” rasped Thaxton. “I told you it was the only one _you_ could have. And it is. I hope you won’t take it. If I’d had any sense I’d have said the furnace room was the only one I’d give you. That or the coal cellar.” “Never mind!” sighed Chase, with true Christian resignation. “What am _I_, to complain? What am _I_?” “I’d hate to tell you,” snapped Thaxton. “What are you charging Clive?” demanded Willis. “A penny a year. Laundry three cents extra. He--” “Miss Gregg, sir. Miss Lane,” announced the sour-visaged butler, from the dining room doorway.