"was in getting enough to put into
it."

"Have a care, young man," wheezed Uncle Israel, warningly. "There ain't
nothin' so bad for the system as hot bread."

"It would be bad for my system," resumed Dick, "not to be able to get
it."

"My third husband," continued Mrs. Dodd, disregarding the interruption,
"wouldn't have no bread in the house at all. He et these little straw
mattresses, same as you've got, so constant that he finally died from the
tic doleroo. Will you please pass me them biscuits, Mis' Carr?"

Mrs. Dodd was obliged to rise and reach past Uncle Israel, who declined to
be contaminated by passing the plate, before she attained her desired
biscuit.

"Next time, Aunt Belinda," said Dick, "I'll throw you one. Suffering
Moses, what new dope is that?"

A powerful and peculiarly penetrating odour filled the room. Presently it
became evident that Uncle Israel had uncorked a fresh bottle of medicine.
Miss St. Clair coughed and hastily excused herself.

"It's time for me to take my pain-killer," murmured Uncle Israel, pouring
out a tablespoonful of a thick, brown mixture. "This here cured a
Congressman in less 'n half a bottle of a gnawin' pain in his vitals. I
ain't never took none of it yet, but I aim to now."

The vapour of it had already made the twins cry and brought tears to Mrs.
Dodd's eyes, but Uncle Israel took it clear and smacked his lips over it
enjoyably. "It seems to be a searchin' medicine," he commented, after an
interval of silence. "I don't misdoubt that it'll locate that pain that
was movin' up and down my back all night last night."

Uncle Israel's wizened old face, with its fringe of white whisker, beamed
with the joy of a scientist who has made a new and important discovery. He
had a long, hooked nose, and was painfully near-sighted, but refused to
wear glasses. Just now he sniffed inquiringly at the open bottle of
medicine. "Yes," he said, nodding his bald head sagely, "I don't misdoubt
this here can locate it."

"I don't, either," said Harlan, grimly, putting his handkerchief to his
nose. "Will you excuse me, Dorothy?"

"Certainly."

Mrs. Holmes took the weeping twins away from the table, and Willie, his
mentor gone, began to eat happily with his fingers. The poet rose and drew
a roll of manuscript from his coat pocket.

"This afternoon," he said, clearing his throat, "I employed my spare
moments in composing an ode to the memory of our sainted relative, under
whose hospita