on them, did their best.
There had turned out to be two extra guests instead of the one whom
Burns had thought he might have asked but couldn't be sure; and Winifred
had had a bad ten minutes looking out a full set of everything with
which to set his place. For Red Pepper's place must certainly be left
unfilled; it would be beyond the possibilities that the dinner should
end without him.

"I believe he has forgotten," whispered Martha to Winifred in the
office, from whose dim shadows they were surreptitiously peering into
the dining room to make sure that everything was going properly.

"Oh, he couldn't, not with the Edinburgh man here. He's often told us
about Doctor Grant and how much he owes him. He does look splendid and
capable, doesn't he--for all he's so burly and homely? And the other
men all feel honoured to be here with him; even Doctor Van Horn, who's
always so impressed with himself."

"They seem to be having a good time. And they're eating as if they never
saw food before. It's a success--as much as it can be without the host
himself. Oh, why doesn't Red come?"

"He wouldn't desert a patient in a crisis for a dozen dinners."

"No, but he'd send word."

"Look at Arthur. He's hobnobbing with Doctor Grant as if he'd always
known him."

"Jim is having a bad time with Doctor Van Horn. I can see it in his eye.
Mercy! one of them looked this way. I'm afraid he saw me. Come!"

The next time they reconnoitred, the dinner was working toward its end.
It was time, for it was nearly ten o'clock, and Cynthia's courses though
not many, had been mighty. Presently the table had been cleared, and
the men were drinking coffee and lighting the excellent cigars which had
been Macauley's thought when he found that Red Pepper was not on hand to
provide them himself.

Under the influence of these genial stimulants--Burns never offered any
others, and one man who knew it had declined to come--the sociability
grew more positive. Chester relaxed his legs under the table, feeling
that at last Red's guests could take care of themselves. Grayson proved
an accomplished story-teller; Buller had lately had some remarkable
adventures; even Ronald Grant, who had seemed a trifle taciturn, related
an extraordinary experience of another man. The Scottish surgeon had the
reputation of never talking about himself.

The smoke grew thick. Macauley's cigars were of a strong brand; the
air was blue with their reek. Still the guests sat ab