."

But we did not have to see. We were at the table when we heard the sound
of hurrying footsteps on the walk. The gate closed with a bang. Dorinda
rose from her chair.

"I swan! I believe that's him now!" she exclaimed.

"If it is, he is certainly running this time," I observed. "What--"

The door was thrown open and the missing member of the household
appeared. He was red-faced and panting, but there was a curious air of
dignified importance in his bearing. Dorinda's lips shut tightly.

"Well, Lute," said I, "where have you been?"

Lute struggled for breath.

"Don't ask me where I've been!" he gasped. "Don't waste no time askin'
ME questions. Get your hat on, Ros! Get your hat on this minute! Where
did I put that? Where in time did I put it?"

He was fumbling in his pockets. Dorinda and I looked at each other. She
shook her head.

"He's gone stark foolish at last!" she said, with decision. "Well,
I've been expectin' it! Lute Rogers, stop pawin' yourself over and act
sensible, if you can. What is the matter with you?"

"Matter with me! Nothin's the matter with ME; but there's somethin' the
matter with other folks, I tell you that! Doctor Quimby's been there
twice already, and the telephone's been goin', and--and--My time! you
ought to seen her face! 'Twas just as white as--as--WHERE did I put that
letter?"

His "pawing" became more frantic than ever. His wife stepped forward and
seized him by the arm.

"Stop it, I tell you!" she commanded. "Stop it! Who's sick? Whose
telephone's ringin'? What letter are you talkin' about? Answer me! Stop
that Saint Vitus dancin' and answer me this minute!"

She gave him a shake and his cap fell to the floor. From it fell an
envelope. Lute pulled himself free and pounced upon it.

"There 'tis!" he exclaimed. "By time! I was scart I'd lost it! Read it,
Ros! read it!"

He handed me the envelope. It bore my name. I tore it open--took out the
sheet of notepaper which it inclosed, and read as follows:

"Dear Mr. Paine:

"Father is very ill, and I am in great trouble. I think you, perhaps,
can help us both. Will you come over at once? PLEASE do.

"Hastily yours,

"MABEL COLTON."

"And--and--" panted Lute, "she told me to tell you to please hurry. And
you'd ought to seen her face! She--"

I heard no more. I did not wait to get my hat, as the excited bearer
of the note had urged me to do. Bareheaded, I hurried out of the
dining-room and along the path toward the