"I do," said Jack, "an' so does Mary," and he watched until Jed had folded the check and placed it in his pocket. "Now," he went on, with a sigh of relief, "I feel better. O' course you'll stay t' supper?" "O' course I will," answered Jed, promptly, and Mary bustled away to prepare the meal. And when it was served, half an hour later, Jed was given the place of honour between Jack and Allan, with Mamie and Mary across from him. "Well," he said, looking around at the smoking dishes, "this reminds me of old times, afore I pulled up stakes an' went West. I was born in New Hampshire, an' didn't know when I was well off, an' so run away like so many fool boys do. I ain't had a home since--an' I've never had th' nerve t' go back thar an' face my old mother that I deserted like that. You see, I jest want t' show you what a good-fer-nothin' skunk I am." "You've got a home right here, if you want it," said Mary, quickly, out of the depths of her heart. Jed cleared his throat once or twice before he found the voice to answer. "Mrs. Welsh," he said, "I'm a-goin' back now, jest as fast as a train kin take me. I wanted t' come over fust an' say good-bye t' th' kid. He's clear grit. But I won't never fergit them words o' yours." At last he pushed his chair back from the table and rose. "Th' best meal I've eat in twenty year," he said. "But I've got t' go--my train starts at six-ten. How much do I owe you?" "What!" cried Jack, his eyes flashing. "Owe us? Ye don't owe us a cent!" "Do you take me fer a dead beat!" shouted Jed. "I'm a-goin' t' pay fer that meal. Here," he cried, and fillped a folded bit of pink paper out upon the table, "take that. It's wuth it." Allan alone understood, and he began to smile, though his eyes were wet. "You infernal galoot," went on Jed, excitedly, "did you suppose fer a minute I'd take that money? I was never so near lickin' a man in my life! Take it, or by George, I'll lick you yet!" And with that, he jumped on Mamie, caught her up, kissed her, and fairly ran from the house. CHAPTER XXIX THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER But those were happy hearts he left behind him, and sweet were the dreams they dreamed that night. Mary, the summation and perfect example of Irish housewives, dreamed of a little home in the suburbs, with an orchard and garden, and a yard for chickens, and a house for the cow, and a pen for the pigs, where she could be busy and happy all day long, working for her loved ones. Jack dreamed of a new gown his wife should have, and of new dresses for Mamie, and some new books for Allan, and a new pipe for himself,--for Jack had only a limited idea of what twenty-five hundred dollars would accomplish. And Allan dreamed of the day when he, too, could come in as Jed Hopkins had done, and leave behind him a princely gift.