comrade nurse as he shuffled into the house and back to his
kitchen to complete his preparation of the simple evening meal for his
little household. As he crisped his bacon, scrambled his eggs and
browned his muffins he muttered to himself:

"He's gitting weaker every day--help him Lord, and me to keep care of
him."

Just as he was turning the fluffy yellow scramble into a hot, old silver
dish he paused and listened to the musketry of the Major's deep voice
which was huge even in weakness, then he shook his head and began to
hustle the food together to be able to use the announcement of the meal
as an interruption to the harmful excitement, whose scattering words he
was at a loss to understand.

"Impossible! Impossible that my granddaughter should barter and trade in
the theatrical world, a world into which no lady should ever set foot.
No! Do not argue, Patricia! Roger and I understand, and it is not
needful that you should," were the words of the assault and
counter-charge that so puzzled old Jeff over his skillet and baker.

"I'm not going to act in the play, Grandfather. I wrote it and I'm going
to show them how I want it acted and then come right home," soothed
Patricia, looking to Roger for help and reinforcement.

"She'll stay at the Young Women's Christian Association, Major, and
she'll be perfectly safe. I am going to write to Dennis Farraday, who
graduated with me at the University, and ask him to look after her if
she needs anything."

"Ah, that puts another face on the matter," said the Major, with a
degree of mollification coming into his keen, old face and weakly
booming voice. "Of course, the Adairs have always been geniuses of one
kind or another, and it is not surprising that my granddaughter should
have produced a great American Drama. If she has the interest and
protection of a gentleman who is a friend of her brother's, and a safe
retreat in a woman's organization I will have to permit her to
superintend the placing of her great work before an appreciative public.
Of course, she will not be thrown with any of the theatrical world
socially, and in a few weeks she will return to her own home, leaving
that world better for having had a brief glimpse of her. You may go,
Patricia. Jefferson!" Fatigue showed very decidedly in the Major's weak
call to the old negro, who came immediately and rolled his chair away
with an indignant cast of his eyes at the two young people.

"Wh-eugh, that was a battle