“I was afeerd the supper would git stale,” she said. “I don’t like to keep things warmed up; they ain’t got the same taste they have when they’re cooked jest right and served right away.” “You needn’t wait for me, if there’s company,” he said, seeing that an extra place had been laid. “Oh, I reckon the company’s willin’ to wait,” she retorted, with a laugh. “Only don’t be no longer than ye kin help.” “I won’t,” Allan promised and hurried away. Five minutes later, he opened the door of the dining-room again, and saw who the visitor was. “Why, Reddy!” he cried, going quickly forward, his hand outstretched. “How are you? I’m glad to see you.” “The same here, Allan,” answered Reddy Magraw, warmly gripping the hand outstretched to him in his own honest palm. “An’ mighty glad I was when Jack asked me t’ be here t’-day.” “To-day,” echoed Allan, glancing quickly around at the smiling faces. “Why, what day is it?” “Don’t you know?” asked Jack, his face all one broad grin. “Don’t you know, boy?” Mamie’s eyes were dancing, as she looked at Allan’s perplexed countenance. “Oh, it’s a disgrace, Allan, if you don’t remember!” she cried. “I’ll tell you what day it is, me boy,” said Reddy, his face beaming. “It’s jist eight year ago t’-day sence a little scalpeen named Allan West come along out there on Section Twinty-one an’ asked the foreman, Jack Welsh, fer a job. We’re meetin’ here t’-night t’ celebrate his good jedgment in givin’ ye one.” “’Tis the thing in all my life I’m most proud of,” said Jack. “An’ the thing that has made me happiest,” added Mary. “And I’d never have forgiven him, if he hadn’t,” cried Mamie, at which they all laughed, a little uncertainly, and sat down, their hearts very tender. “Can it really be eight years?” asked Allan, after a moment’s silence. “It doesn’t seem possible. And yet when one thinks what has happened—” “They has a lot happened,” agreed Reddy. “An’ many a happy day we had out there on Section Twinty-one. Not that I don’t like the work now, Jack,” he added. “But my gang don’t seem t’ be loike the old one. Mebbe it’s because I’m gittin’ old an’ don’t see things with quite so much gilt on ’em as I used to.” “Old! Nonsense!” cried Jack. “Why, you’re a young man, yet, Reddy.” “No, I ain’t,” said Reddy. “I ain’t young by no means. An’ I’ve allers thought that that belt I got on the head from that runaway ingine had took some of the ginger out o’ me. But that’s all fancy, most likely,” he added, hastily, seeing Allan’s eyes upon him. “Look here, Reddy,” said Allan, “do you think my hitting you that time had anything to do with it?” “No, I don’t,” said Reddy. “I think that was the only thing that saved me. I’ve told ye already that I wouldn’t have complained if ye’d kilt me. Tell me about it ag’in, boy; I can’t hear that story too often.”