“Goodness, is it?” laughed Cis. “Aren’t we going somewhere, Tom? We aren’t going to stay here all night, are we? It was good of Nan to send you to meet me.” “_Good_! Of _Nan_! To _send_ me!” Tom cried in a series of small explosions. “Gosh! As though a man had no mind of his own! As though Nan sent me, like a kid! I tell you, Cis, I’ve hardly been able to sleep since I heard you were coming, for fear I’d miss meeting your train! I tell you, Cis, it’s been hard sledding with you gone, and if I’ve grown old it’s from missing you, if you want to know!” “Well, Tom! That’s a dear boy to remember Cis so hard,” said Cis, falling back into her old boyish way of speaking, association with the place and with the lad to whom she had returned, calling it out. But she found this earnestness of Tom’s wearisome, and devoutly wished that he had not been so loyal to her memory. “Come over to the taxi stand,” said Tom. “Here, give over that suitcase. Checks?” “One check, one small trunk,” said Cis yielding up her case and check to this protector. Tom handed her check to an expressman, and gave him the address of Nan’s house. Then he resumed his way toward the taxi stand, holding Cis by one elbow. As he put her into the cab, and entered it himself he said: “Say, Nan has a son; three days old, he is. She wouldn’t let them telegraph you for fear you’d hold off coming a little. But she told me to tell you that she was so crazy to see you that it would do her more good to have you walk in than even to see the baby! And heaven knows, she’s wild over him, though, honest; he’s not such a much! I never saw one so young, and I think age improves ’em more’n it does wine.” “Oh, Tom, of course she’s wild over her baby son!” cried Cis. “I’m going to be wild over him myself! He’s to be one third mine; Nan said so. He’s my godson, or will be, as soon as we can get him made so. What’s his name?” “Matt, Matthew, for Joe’s father; I’m not keen for it,” said Tom. “Joe wanted it, and Nan always likes to please him, so it’s Matt. Nan wanted him called Cyril.” “I like Matt better; Cyril is too dressy for Nan’s boy; she’s such a simple, dear little mouse!” said Cis decidedly. “Oh, Tom, here we are!” “Well, Cis, dear, didn’t you think if the taxi went on running we’d get here?” asked Tom, intending to be humorous, and helping Cis out. Nan held out her arms when Cis came up the stairs, running to her headlong. “Oh, Cis; oh, Cis! I’m so glad!” Nan cried, and Cis kissed her with tears, repeatedly. Nan a wife and now a mother! Not only for Cis had these months been full of changes. Nan had a son to praise God for, but Cis--what had she? Less? No; more! A son was another soul to rejoice over, but Cis felt that the creation of her soul was a wonder greater than ordinary birth.