were getting up the refreshments and that any one who strayed in there
would in all probability be put to work.

Still he wanted Green Valley housewives to go in and see if they could
think of anything that would make Mary's work easier. He had, he said,
tried to make that kitchen a livable kind of a room, a room that would
be easy on a woman's feet and back and restful to her heart.

In the library and scattered all about were samples of Hen Tomlins'
art. Hen was a rare workman, their minister told them. With his box
of tools and his cunning hands Hen had taken old, broken but still
beautiful heirloom furniture and refashioned it into new life and
beauty.

In his little study just off the library his Green Valley neighbors
would find all manner of oriental things, treasures gathered for him by
his wonderful mother and father and given to him by his many dear and
far-away Indian friends. He had put little cards on the articles,
explaining their history and uses.

For the babies there were big, quiet, safe rooms upstairs, and for the
young people there was the hall and the back sitting room, the piano,
the music box and Timothy Williams. Timothy was the man who up till
the day before yesterday had owned and run the poolroom. But he wasn't
in the poolroom business any more. He was now his, John Knight's,
assistant and friend. Timothy's story was a common enough little
story--the story of a man without a home. If they'd all listen a
minute he'd tell them all there was to tell.

So, in the midst of a merrymaking, John Roger Churchill Knight
introduced Timothy Williams to Green Valley, introduced him in such a
way as to pave a wide clear path for him into Green Valley hearts. And
so quick was Green Valley's response that before that same merrymaking
was over Green Valley was calling him Timothy and inviting him over for
Sunday dinner.

So then they were all provided for. And here was the house. It was
years since some of them were in it, and to a home-loving,
home-worshipping people it was a treat to go from room to room. In
spite of the changes, the newness everywhere, there was much of the old
home left. Its soul was still the same. The new hangings, the new
wicker furniture, the oriental treasures were all duly inspected,
commented upon and admired.

But it was the old things, the Green Valley things that made the great
appeal. And Green Valley folks rested loving hands every now and then
on som