o murder them, didn't you?" Sheila laughed. "Well, Mr. Brandle,
suppose we begin with supper and the baseball news. After that we'll hunt
up a thriller--biggest thriller they've got in the book-store."

"You're boss," was the answer, but a look of relief--almost of
contentment--spread over the rubicund face.

As Sheila was leaving for the supper-tray she paused. "How would you like
company for supper?"

"Company? Good Lord, not the parson!"

"No, me. If you are willing to sign for two, I could bring my supper up
with yours."

"And not eat alone! By Jehoshaphat! Give me that slip quick."

They had not only a good supper, they had a noisy one. The coal magnate
roared over Sheila's descriptions of some of the bath treatments and their
victims. In the midst of one particularly noisy explosion he suddenly
stopped and looked accusingly at her. "Why don't you stop me? Don't you
know doctor's orders? Had 'em dinged into my head until I could say 'em
backwards: no exertion, no excitement, avoid all undue movement, keep
quiet. Darn it all! As if I won't have to keep quiet long enough!
Well--why don't you repeat those fool orders and keep me quiet?"

Sheila looked at him with a pair of steady gray eyes. "Do you know, Mr.
Brandle, it isn't a half-bad way to go out of this world--to go laughing."

The mammoth man beamed. He looked for all the world like the full moon
suddenly grown beatific. "And I'd just about made up my mind that I'd
never find a blamed soul who would feel that way about it. Shake again,
boss."

After the baseball news and a fair start in the thriller, he indulged
further in past grievances. "Hadn't any more'n settled it for sure I was
done for than the parson came and the nurse took to looking mournful. Lord
Almighty! ain't it bad enough to be carted off in a hearse once without
folks putting you in beforehand? That's not my notion of dying. I lived
pleasant and cheerful, and by the Lord Harry, I don't see why I can't die
that way! And look-a-here, boss, I don't want any of that repenting stuff.
I don't need no puling parson to tell me I'm a sinner. Any idiot couldn't
look at me without guessing that much. Say!" He leaned forward with sudden
earnestness. "Take a good look at me yourself. See any halo or angel
trappings about me?"

Sheila laughed. "I'm afraid not. What you really ought to have--what I
miss about you--is the pipe, and the bowl, and the fiddlers three."

"What do you mean by that?"

"D