"I should like to refute your statement, but candor compels me to admit its truth," he answered. "I just happen to remember that I haven't had luncheon yet. Excuse me if I take two." She went to the wall and pushed a button. "You're a foolish person and I'm going to punish you. Father's beef tea is ready day and night, and"--she said to the Swedish maid,--"bring some more hot water and the decanter." "_J'y suis; j'y reste._ I think I have died and gone to Heaven." "You don't deserve Heaven. Why didn't you tell me?" "That I wanted a sandwich? They advised me against it as a kid. We are taught repression in Massachusetts and I try to live up to my training." He pronounced beef tea no such deadly drug as it was reported to be, and he drank it until she was content. He concocted a hot toddy while she twitted him about his use of the tea-table implements for so ignoble a use; and she made him talk of his work and of the Traction Company's affairs. "Mr. Wheaton has explained about it," she said, "and Warry too. Warry seems to be very much interested in some work he is doing in connection with it." "Yes, he does his work well, too!" said John, with enthusiasm. He had no right to be there; but being there he could praise his friend. He told her in detail about some of Warry's work. Warry had, he said, a legal mind, and knew the philosophy of the law as only the old-time lawyers did. He rose and replenished the fire and went on talking. Some amusing incidents had occurred in the adjustment of legal questions relating to the receivership and he told of them in a way to reflect the greatest credit on Warry. "It looks awfully complicated--the receivership and all that. Father has begun to ask questions, but we don't encourage him." "I'll have a good deal to explain and apologize for, when he is able to take a hand," said John. "I'm sure father will be grateful. Mr. Wheaton and Warry are very enthusiastic about your work." She laughed out suddenly. "Warry says you have made two cars go where none had gone before." "They have a joke down town in refutation of that. They illustrate the erratic service of the Varney Street line by saying that the cars are like bananas--short, yellow, and come in bunches." He walked to the fireplace and took up the poker. "I have been prodigally generous with Mr. Porter's wood. It burns awfully fast." The flame had died down to a few uncertain embers which he touched tentatively with the poker. "When it goes out I'll have to go with it." "The joke is poor, Mr. Saxton. You can hardly sustain a reputation on sayings of that sort." She put down her tea cup and went over to the fire and poked the ashes gravely. "One might construe those actions in two ways," he said, meditatively, as if the subject were one of weight. "One cannot tell whether the sibyl is trying to encourage or to blight the dying flame. Just another poke in that corner and it will be gone."