"Yes, and no. Oh, he graduated and hung out his shingle; but he never practiced much. He had money enough, anyway, and he got interested in scientific research--antiquarian, mostly, though he's done a bit of mountain-climbing and glacier-studying for the National Geographic Society." "Antiquarian? Oh, yes, I know--old things. Mother was that way, too. She had an old pewter plate, and a dark blue china teapot, homely as a hedge fence, I thought, but she doted on 'em. And she doted on ancestors, too. She had one in that old ship--Mayflower, wasn't it?" Burke laughed. "Mayflower! My dear child, the Mayflower is a mere infant-in-arms in the doctor's estimation. The doctor goes back to prehistoric times for his playground, and to the men of the old Stone Age for his preferred playmates." "Older than the Mayflower, then?" "A trifle--some thousands of years." "Goodness! How can he? I thought the Mayflower was bad enough. But what does he do--collect things?" "Yes, to some extent; he has a fine collection of Babylonian tablets, and--" "Oh, I know--those funny little brown and yellow cakes like soap, all cut into with pointed little marks--what do you call it?--like your father has in his library!" "The cuneiform writing? Yes. As I said, the doctor has a fine collection of tablets, and of some other things; but principally he studies and goes on trips. It was a trip to the Spanish grottoes that got him interested in the archæological business in the first place, and put him out of conceit with doctoring. He goes a lot now, sometimes independently, sometimes in the interest of some society. He does in a scientific way what dad and I have done for fun--traveling and collecting, I mean. Then, too, he has written a book or two which are really authoritative in their line. He's a great chap--the doctor is. Wait till you see him. I've told him about you, too." "Then you told him--that is--he knows--about the marriage." "Why, sure he does!" Burke's manner was a bit impatient. "What do you suppose, when he's coming here to-night? Now, mind, put on your prettiest frock and your sweetest smile. I want him to see _why_ I married you," he challenged banteringly. "I want him to see what a treasure I've got. And say, dearie, _do_ you suppose--_could_ we have him to dinner, or something? Could you manage it? I wanted to ask him to-night; but of course I couldn't--without your knowing beforehand." "Mercy, no, Burke!" shuddered the young housekeeper. "Don't you dare--when I don't know it." "But if you do know it--" He paused hopefully. "Why, y-yes, I guess so. Of course I could get things I was sure of, like potato salad and--" Burke sat back in his chair. "But, Helen, I'm afraid--I don't think--that is, I'm 'most sure Gleason doesn't like potato salad," he stammered. "Doesn't he? Well, he needn't eat it, then. We'll have all the more left for the next day." "But, Helen, er--"