ankful to ye, ma'am," said Joe Wynbrook
quickly, "for makin' a break to come here to live, jest ez we're
thankful--speakin' for the rest of this camp--for yer lightin' us up ez
you're doin'! I reckon I'm speakin' for the crowd," he added, looking
round him.

Murmurs of "That's so" and "You bet" passed through the company, and one
or two cast a half-indignant glance at Prosper.

"It's only natural," continued Mrs. Pottinger resignedly, "that having
lived so long alone, my dear Prosper may at first be a little impatient
of his old mother's control, and perhaps regret his invitation."

"Oh no, ma'am," said the embarrassed Prosper.

But here the mercurial Wynbrook interposed on behalf of amity and the
camp's esprit de corps. "Why, Lord! ma'am, he's jest bin longin' for ye!
Times and times agin he's talked about ye; sayin' how ef he could only
get ye out of yer Fifth Avenue saloon to share his humble lot with him
here, he'd die happy! YOU'VE heard him talk, Brewster?"

"Frequent," replied the accommodating Brewster.

"Part of the simple refreshment I have to offer you," continued Mrs.
Pottinger, ignoring further comment, "is a viand the exact quality of
which I am not familiar with, but which my son informs me is a great
favorite with you. It has been prepared by Li Sing, under my direction.
Prosper, dear, see that the--er--doughnuts--are brought in with the
coffee."

Satisfaction beamed on the faces of the company, with perhaps the sole
exception of Prosper. As a dish containing a number of brown glistening
spheres of baked dough was brought in, the men's eyes shone in
sympathetic appreciation. Yet that epicurean light was for a moment
dulled as each man grasped a sphere, and then sat motionless with it
in his hand, as if it was a ball and they were waiting the signal for
playing.

"I am told," said Mrs. Pottinger, with a glance of Christian tolerance
at Prosper, "that lightness is considered desirable by some--perhaps you
gentlemen may find them heavy."

"Thar is two kinds," said the diplomatic Joe cheerfully, as he began to
nibble his, sideways, like a squirrel, "light and heavy; some likes 'em
one way, and some another."

They were hard and heavy, but the men, assisted by the steaming coffee,
finished them with heroic politeness. "And now, gentlemen," said Mrs.
Pottinger, leaning back in her chair and calmly surveying the party,
"you have my permission to light your pipes while you partake of some
whiskey an