and again she rested a hand upon his brow.

"Who is here besides you?" he asked.

"No one--except Solomon."

"Solomon!" and he smiled. "Is Solomon well?"

"Oh, yes! Very well."

"Then you have taken care of me all this time?"

She turned away and took up a glass of water from a table near the bed.

"Yes; Solomon and I together. Are you thirsty? Would you like anything?"

Pats closed his eyes and took a long breath. There was no use in trying
to say what he felt, so he answered in a husky voice, which he found
difficult to control:

"Thank you. I _am_ thirsty."

"Would you like tea or a glass of water?"

"Water, please."

"Or, would you prefer grapes?"

"Grapes!"

"Yes, grapes, or oranges, or pears, whichever you prefer."

His look of incredulity seemed to amuse her. "Do you remember the two
boxes and the barrel left by the _Maid of the North_ on the beach
with our baggage?"

He nodded.

"Well, one of those boxes was filled with fruit."

"Is there plenty for both of us?"

"More than enough."

"Then I will have a glass of water first and then grapes--and all the
other things."

He drank the water, and as she took away the empty glass, he said, in a
serious tone: "Miss Marshall, I wish I could tell you how mortified I am
and how--how--"

"Mortified! At what?"

"All this trouble--this--whole business."

"But you certainly could not help it!"

"That's very kind of you, but it's all wrong--all wrong!"

She smiled and moved away, and as she drew aside the tapestry and
disappeared, he turned his face to the wall, and muttered, "Disgraceful!
Disgraceful! I must get well fast."

And he carried out this resolve. Every hour brought new strength. In
less than a week he was out of bed and sitting up. During this early
period of convalescence--the period of tremulous legs and ravenous
hunger--the Fourth of July arrived, and they celebrated the occasion by
a sumptuous dinner. There was soup, sardines, cold tongue, dried-apple
sauce, baked potatoes, fresh bread, and preserved pears, and the last of
the grapes. At table, Elinor faced the empty chair that held the
miniature, for the absent lady's right to that place was always
respected. Pats sat at the end facing the door. They dined at noon. A
bottle of claret was opened and they drank to the health of Uncle Sam.

Toward the end of the dinner, Pats arose, and with one hand on the table
to reinforce his treacherous legs, held aloft his glass. Looking