Mr. Jarvis, when he had recovered from the surprise of seeing Betty and learning that she had returned to her old situation, explained: "T'ought I'd bring de kits along," he said. "Dey starts fuss'n' wit' each odder yesterday, so I brings dem along." John inspected the menagerie without resentment. "Sure!" he said. "They add a kind of peaceful touch to the scene." The atmosphere was, indeed, one of peace. The dog, after an inquisitive journey round the room, lay down and went to sleep. The cats settled themselves comfortably, one on each of Mr. Jarvis' knees. Long Otto, surveying the ceiling with his customary glassy stare, smoked a long cigar. And Bat, scratching one of the cats under the ear, began to entertain John with some reminiscences of fits and kittens. But the peace did not last. Ten minutes had barely elapsed when the dog, sitting up with a start, uttered a whine. The door burst open and a little man dashed in. He was brown in the face, and had evidently been living recently in the open air. Behind him was a crowd of uncertain numbers. They were all strangers to John. "Yes?" he said. The little man glared speechlessly at the occupants of the room. The two Bowery boys rose awkwardly. The cats fell to the floor. The rest of the party had entered. Betty recognized the Reverend Edwin T. Philpotts and Mr. B. Henderson Asher. "My name is Renshaw," said the little man, having found speech. "What can I do for you?" asked John. The question appeared to astound the other. "What can you--! Of all--!" "Mr. Renshaw is the editor of _Peaceful Moments_," she said. "Mr. Smith was only acting for him." Mr. Renshaw caught the name. "Yes. Mr. Smith. I want to see Mr. Smith. Where is he?" "In prison," said John. "In prison!" John nodded. "A good many things have happened since you left for your vacation. Smith assaulted a policeman, and is now on Blackwell's Island." Mr. Renshaw gasped. Mr. B. Henderson Asher stared, and stumbled over the cat. "And who are you?" asked the editor. "My name is Maude. I--" He broke off, to turn his attention to Mr. Jarvis and Mr. Asher, between whom unpleasantness seemed to have arisen. Mr. Jarvis, holding a cat in his arms, was scowling at Mr. Asher, who had backed away and appeared apprehensive. "What is the trouble?" asked John. "Dis guy here wit' two left feet," said Bat querulously, "treads on de kit." Mr. Renshaw, eying Bat and the silent Otto with disgust, intervened. "Who are these persons?" he enquired. "Poison yourself," rejoined Bat, justly incensed. "Who's de little squirt, Mr. Maude?" John waved his hands. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," he said, "why descend to mere personalities? I ought to have introduced you. This is Mr. Renshaw, our editor. These, Mr. Renshaw, are Bat Jarvis and Long Otto, our acting fighting editors, vice Kid Brady, absent on unavoidable business." The name stung Mr. Renshaw to indignation, as Smith's had done.