ldn't countenance any sort of mock service! Even just for--for
quaintness,--even for Christmas quaintness!"

"Mock service?" puzzled Flame. "Bibles?... Oh, I don't want you to
preach out of 'em," she hastened perfectly amiably to explain. "All I
want them for is to plump-up the chairs.... The seats you see are too
low for the dogs.... Oh, I suppose dictionaries would do," she
compromised reluctantly. "Only dictionaries are always so scarce."

Obediently the Lay Reader raked the parlor book-cases for
"plump-upable" books. With real dexterity he built Chemistries on
Sermons and Ancient Poems on Cook Books till the desired heights were
reached.

For a single minute more Flame took another peep at the table.

"Set a chair for yourself directly opposite me!" she ordered. For
sheer hilarious satisfaction her feet began to dance and her hands to
clap. "And whenever I really feel obliged to look," she sparkled,
"you'll just have to leave the table, that's all!... And now...?"
Appraisingly her muffled eye swept the shining vista. "Perfect!" she
triumphed. "Perfect!" Then quite abruptly the eager mouth wilted.
"Why ... Why I've forgotten the carving knife and fork!" she cried out
in real distress. "Oh, how stupid of me!" Arduously, but without
avail, she searched through all the drawers and cupboards of the
Rattle-Pane kitchen. A single alternative occurred to her. "You'll
have to go over to my house and get them,--Mr. Lorello!" she said.
"Were you ever in my kitchen? Or my pantry?"

"No," admitted the Lay Reader.

"Well, you'll have to climb in through the window--someway," worried
Flame. "I've mislaid my key somewhere here among all these dishes and
boxes. And the pantry," she explained very explicitly, "is the third
door on the right as you enter.... You'll see a chest of drawers.
Open the second of 'em.... Or maybe you'd better look through all of
them.... Only please ... please hurry!" Imploringly the little head
lifted.

"If I hurry enough," said the Lay Reader quite impulsively, "may I
have a kiss when I get back?"

"A kiss?" hooted Flame. In the curve of her cheek a dimple opened
suddenly. "Well ... maybe," said Flame.

As though the word were wings the Lay Reader snatched his hat and sped
out into the night.

It was astonishing how all the warm housey air seemed to rush out with
him, and all the shivery frost rush back.

A little bit listlessly Flame dragged down the bandage from her eyes.

"It must be th