their contents--a cold roast chicken, all brown and golden
as it had left the oven, cheese, butter, crisp rolls, and crisp red
radishes, finally a little basket piled with fruit.

It was a very simple meal, but Blake smiled to himself as he set out the
dishes to the best advantage, placed the wine reverentially in the
centre to crown the feast, and at last, still tiptoeing, came round to
the back of Max's chair and laid his hands over the closed eyes.

"Guess!" he said, as if to a child.

Max gave a little cry, in which surprise and fear struggled for
supremacy; then he sprang to his feet, shaking off the imprisoning
hands.

"What is it? Who is it?" Then he laughed shamefacedly, and, turning, saw
the spread table.

"Oh, _mon ami_!" His eyes opened wide, and he gazed from the food to
Blake. "_Mon ami!_ You have done this for me while I was sleeping!"

His gaze was eloquent even beyond his words, and Blake, finding no fit
answer, began to move about the room, collecting the vases that held the
candles and carrying them to the table.

"_Mon ami!_"

"Nonsense, boy! It's little enough I do, goodness knows!"

"This is a great deal."

"Nonsense! What is it? You were fagged and I was fresh! And now I
suppose I must knock the head off this bottle, for we haven't a
corkscrew. The Lord lend me a steady hand, for 'twould be a pity if I
shook the wine!"

He carried the bottle to the fireplace, and with considerable dexterity
cracked the head and wiped the raw glass edges. "Now, boy, the glasses!
Oh, but have we glasses, though?" His face fell in a manner that set Max
laughing.

"We have one glass--in my room."

"Bravo! Fly for it!"

Max laughed again--his sleep, his surprise, his gratitude equally
routed; he flew, in literal obedience to the command, across the little
hall and, groping his way to the dressing-table, searched about in the
darkness for the tumbler.

"Ned! A candle!"

Blake brought the desired light, and together they discovered the
coveted glass. Max seized upon it eagerly, but as he delivered it up a
swift exclamation escaped him:

"My God! How dirty I am! Regard my hands!"

"What does it matter! You can wash after you've eaten."

"Oh, but no! I pay more compliment to your feast."

"Very well, then! We may hope to sup in an hour or so. I know you and
the making of your toilet!"

"Impertinent!" Max caught him by the arm and pushed him, laughing,
toward the door. "Go back and complete the t