lonely? Rarely, Sue. As a matter of fact, we have a good many callers,
first and last."

"What sort of callers?"

"Neighbours, and friends."

"You are in a horribly poor locality. I noticed as I came through. Do you
mean that you encourage these people to come to see you?"

"We use all the drawing powers we have, Bim and I."

"Do you mean to say," said she, bending forward, "that you are conducting
a _mission_--here, in this place? When you ought to be just trying to get
well? Oh, what would Doctor Brainard say?" Her tone was full of
consternation.

Brown threw back his head and laughed, a big, hearty laugh which did not
sound at all like that of an invalid.

"Brainard seems to be your special anxiety," he said. "Send him down to
see me. I'll make him some flapjacks. If there's any one who appreciates
good cookery it's Brainard."

"Don," said his sister slowly, studying the face before her, "what are
you trying to do?"

"Accomplish a little something while I'm marking time."

"You ought to be resting!"

"I am. This is child's play; compared with the parish of St. Timothy's.
And it's lots more fun!"

"You're an ascetic!"

"Never. No crusts and water for me--coffee and flapjacks every time."

Once more she bent toward him. "You are an ascetic. To live in this
place, and wear--What are you wearing? Old clothes and a--What on earth
is that scarf pin? A ten-cent piece?"

He put up his hand. "Benson, the little old watchmaker on the corner,
gave me that. No, it's not a dime. It pleases him immensely to see me
wear it. It's not bad, Sue. Nonsense!"

"It's not good--cheap!"

He sat smiling up at her, while she regarded him in silence for a minute.
Then she broke out again:

"Why--_why_ do you do it? Haven't you worked hard enough in your great
parish, without allowing yourself to spoil this rest you so much need?"

"Sue," said her brother, "the best cure for certain kinds of overwork is
merely more work, only of a different sort. I can't be idle and
contented. Can you?"

"Idle! I should like to be idle. I'm rushed to death, all the time. It's
killing me."

"Dressmakers and hairdressers--and dinners and bridge and the whole
routine of your set," said he. "It is indeed a hard life--I wonder you
stand it."

"Don't be ironic!"

"I'm not ironic. I realized, long ago, that it's the hardest life in the
world--and pays the least."

She flushed. "I have my charities," she reminded him. "I'm not utterly