"Ho, servants!" said the Judge, with a smile. "Bring forth the best robe and put it on him and put a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet and bring hither the fatted calf and kill it and let us eat and be merry." "We shall have to postpone the celebration," said Mr. Bing. "I have to go to New York to-night, and I sail for England to-morrow. But I shall return before Christmas." A little farther on Mr. Bing met Hiram Blenkinsop. The latter had a plank on his shoulder. "I'd like to have a word with you," said the mill owner as he took hold of the plank and helped Hiram to ease it down. "I hear many good things about you, Mr. Blenkinsop. I fear that we have all misjudged you. If I have ever said or done anything to hurt your feelings, I am sorry for it." Hiram Blenkinsop looked with astonishment into the eyes of the millionaire. "I--I guess I ain't got you placed right--not eggzac'ly," said he. "Some folks ain't as good as they look an' some ain't as bad as they look. I wouldn't wonder if we was mostly purty much alike, come to shake us down." "Let's be friends, anyhow," said Mr. Bing. "If there's anything I can do for you, let me know." That evening, as he sat by the stove in his little room over the garage of Mr. Singleton with his dog Christmas lying beside him, Mr. Blenkinsop fell asleep and awoke suddenly with a wild yell of alarm. "What's the matter?" a voice inquired. Mr. Blenkinsop turned and saw his Old Self standing in the doorway. "Nothin' but a dream," said Blenkinsop as he wiped his eyes. "Dreamed I had a dog with a terrible thirst on him. Used to lead him around with a rope an' when we come to a brook he'd drink it dry. Suddenly I felt an awful jerk on the rope that sent me up in the air an' I looked an' see that the dog had turned into an elephant an' that he was goin' like Sam Hill, an' that I was hitched to him and couldn't let go. Once in a while he'd stop an' drink a river dry an' then he'd lay down an' rest. Everybody was scared o' the elephant an' so was I. An' I'd try to cut the rope with my jack knife but it wouldn't cut--it was so dull. Then all of a sudden he'd start on the run an' twitch me over the hills an' mountings, an' me takin' steps a mile long an' scared to death." "The fact is you're hitched to an elephant," his Old Self remarked. "The first thing to do is to sharpen your jack knife." "It's Night an' Silence that sets him goin'," said Blenkinsop. "When they come he's apt to start for the nighest river. The old elephant is beginnin' to move." Blenkinsop put on his hat and hurried out of the door. CHAPTER NINE WHICH TELLS OF A MERRY CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE LITTLE COTTAGE OF THE WIDOW MORAN