the evidences of manual labor,
was crouching over a wood fire, intent upon the contents of a brass
coffee-pot.

"Max! Do you hear me?"

"No, I do not hear. Take the nail from your mouth."

"Take it for me! I haven't a hand."

Max left the coffee-pot with some reluctance, crossed the room, and with
the seriousness known only to the enthusiastic amateur in
house-furnishing, removed the nail from Blake's mouth.

"It is a shame! You will spoil your nice teeth."

"What is a tooth or two in such a cause! Have you a handkerchief?"

"Yes."

"Then, for the love of God, wipe my forehead for me!"

Still without a smile, Max produced a handkerchief that had obviously
played the _role_ of duster at an earlier hour and, passing it over
Blake's face, removed the dew of heat, leaving in its place a long black
streak.

"Thanks! I'm cooler now--though probably dirtier!"

"Dirtier! On the contrary, _mon ami_! You have the most artistic scar of
dust that makes you as interesting as a German officer! Oh!" His voice
rose to a cry of sharp distress, and he ran back to the fire. "Oh, my
coffee! My beautiful coffee! Oh, Ned, it has over boiled!"

Blake eyed the havoc from his coign of vantage with a philosophy tinged
with triumph.

"Didn't I tell you that coffee-pot was a fraud the very first day old
Bluebeard tried to palm it off on us! You will never distinguish between
beauty and utility."

"Beauty is utility!" Max, in deep distress, was using the much-taxed
handkerchief to wipe the spilt coffee from the hearth.

"Should be, my boy, but isn't! I say, give me that business to see to!"
Regardless of the picture still dangling from his hand, he jumped to the
ground and strode through a litter of papers, straw, and packing-cases.

"Give me that rag!" He took the sopping handkerchief and flung it into a
distant corner. "A wisp of this straw is much more useful--less
beautiful, I admit!"

Max glanced up with wide eyes, extremely wistful and youthful in
expression. "I do not believe I care about either the use or the
beauty," he said, plaintively. "I only care that I am hungry and that my
coffee is lost."

"Hungry, boy? Why, bless my soul, you must be starving! What time is it
at all?" Blake pulled out his watch. "Eleven! And we've been at this
hard since eight! Hungry! I should think you are. Look here! You just
sit down!" He pushed aside the many objects that encumbered the floor,
and began impatiently to strip the packing