stina hesitated. So seldom was she addressed by this formal
pseudonym that for the instant she was compelled to stop and consider
whether the individual designated was on the premises or not.

"Y--e--s," she at last admitted feebly.

"I wonder if I might speak with her," the stranger asked.

"Why don't you tell him you're Miss Morton," coached Willie, in a loud
whisper.

But the man on the steps had heard.

"You're not Miss Morton, are you?" he essayed, "Miss Celestina Morton?"

"I expect I am," owned Celestina nervously.

"I'm your brother Elnathan's boy, Bob."

Celestina crumpled weakly against the door frame.

"Nate's boy!" she repeated. "Bless my soul! Bless my soul an' body!"

The man outside laughed a delighted laugh so infectious that before
Celestina or Willie were conscious of it they had joined in its mellow
ripple. After that everything was easy.

"We can't open the door to let you in," explained Willie, peering out
through the rift, "'cause this blasted door ain't moved fur so long
that its hinges have growed together; but if you'll come round to the
back of the house you'll find a warmer welcome."

The guest nodded and disappeared.

"Land alive, Willie!" ejaculated Celestina while they struggled to
replace the dislocated bars and bolts. "To think of Nate's boy
appearin' here! I can't get over it! Nate's boy! Nate was my
favorite brother, you know--the littlest one, that I brought up from
babyhood. This lad is so completely the livin' image of him that when
I clapped eyes on him it took the gimp clear out of me. It was like
havin' Nate himself come back again."

With fluttering eagerness she sped through the hall.

Robert Morton was standing in the kitchen when she arrived, his head
towering into the tangle of strings that crossed and recrossed the
small interior. Whatever his impression of the extraordinary spectacle
he evinced no curiosity but remained as imperturbable amid the network
that ensnared him as if such astounding phenomena were everyday
happenings. Nevertheless, a close observer might have detected in his
hazel eyes a dancing gleam that defied control. Apparently it did not
occur either to Willie or to Celestina to explain the mystery which had
long since become to them so familiar a sight; therefore amid the
barrage of red, green, purple, pink, yellow and white strings they
greeted their guest, throwing into their welcome all the homely
cordiality they could comm