Birds and flowers were B. B.’s hobbies; he knew them all. And other people recognized this interest in him, and shared it. They liked his enthusiasm. Chase said: “Is that so? I had no idea they stayed. It doesn’t seem to me I ever saw one in winter.” “They live in the sheltered places,” said B. B. “You’ll find them in the woods, and the brushy hollows, and around houses where there is a good deal of shrubbery. Especially if the people put out a lump of suet for them to feed on.” “Why, everybody ought to do that,” Chase declared, with a quick interest. “You ought to tell them to, in the _Journal_, B. B.” B. B. smiled and said he was telling people just this, every week. He spoke of other birds. Chase seemed interested. Routt and Wint said nothing. Routt seemed uncomfortable; and that was a strange thing to see in this assured young man. Wint’s eyes were lowered; he was thinking. Lost in a maze of conjectures. Kite would be coming, any minute now. B. B. was still talking about birds when Kite came. Wint heard footsteps on the walk in front of the house, heard them come up the steps. There were several men. Not Kite alone. The sounds told him that. He waited, sitting still, till they knocked on the front door. Then he went out into the hall and opened the door and saw Kite standing there, his dry little face triumphant, malignantly rejoicing. Wint looked at Kite steadily for a moment; and then he lifted his eyes and saw, behind Kite, Amos Caretall. And at one side, Ed Skinner of the _Sun_. He had thought there were others. But he saw no one else. Kite stepped inside the door. Skinner and Amos stood still till Wint asked: “Well--what is it?” Kite said then: “Come in, Amos. You too, Ed.” Amos, his big head on one side, his eyes squinting in a friendly way, drawled a question: “How about it, Wint? Kite says he’s got something to talk over. Asked me to come along. But I don’t allow he’s got any right to ask me into your house.” “Come in, Amos. Both of you,” Wint said; and Kite repeated: “Yes, come in. I know what I’m talking about. This young man isn’t likely to object.” “All right, Wint?” Amos asked again; and Wint nodded, and Amos lumbered into the hall. Then Chase came to the door that led from the sitting room into the hall; and at sight of Amos, he stopped very still, with a white face. Wint crossed to his father’s side and told him quietly: “It’s all right. Kite brought him. It’s all right, dad.” Chase exclaimed: “How do I know it’s all right? I don’t understand all this mystery. Kite, by what right do you use my house for a meeting place? What is all this, anyway? What is the idea, Kite?”