that he can have cocky-leeky soup, boiled cod and
oyster sauce, loin of mutton, apple charlotte, and cheese straws--any or
all of them he likes."

"Thank you," said the nurse.

Andrew planted himself before the fire.

"A fine story this is to get about!" he exclaimed darkly.

"But surely father must be light-headed," said Mrs. Ramornie.

"Umph," he replied.

He clearly did not consider this a very creditable excuse.

"Or perhaps he is really feeling better," suggested Gertrude.

"Better! A man at death's door one minute--given up by the doctors--and
wanting to eat his dinner the next!"

He started.

"I wonder's that nurse fooling us! I didn't like the look of the woman
from the moment she came into the house. I don't believe in your
good-looking nurses."

On this point his sisters cordially agreed with him. Still they didn't
believe it was the nurse.

"Then what is it?" he demanded. "If he's light-headed, why does she pay
any attention to him?"

The door opened, this time without a tap, and in petrified silence they
beheld the portly form of Heriot Walkingshaw, arrayed in a yellow
dressing-gown, holding between his fingers a cigar, and smiling upon
them with a curious blend of satisfaction and meekness.

"I have recovered," said he.

As he made this simple announcement he blew luxuriously through his nose
two thin streams of smoke, while the meekness of his aspect seemed to
make some conscious effort to keep on terms with the satisfaction.

A duet of questions and exclamations arose from the two ladies, and
again some conscious restraint appeared to underlie the paternal calm
with which he answered them.

"Yes," said he, "it is probably one of the most extraordinary recoveries
on record. It began all of a sudden. The spasms passed completely away,
my temperature fell to normal, and I felt a curious sensation almost of
exhilaration. It grew stronger and stronger till at last I could keep in
bed no longer. I felt livelier than I have for years."

He passed the cigar under his nose, drew in his breath, and smiled at it
with a kind of partially chastened affection.

"Do you think could we not have dinner put on a little earlier, eh?"

A cry from the open door startled them. The sympathetic widow, her
black eyes dilated, was gazing at the patient.

"Heriot!" she exclaimed, and there was a note in her voice that came
very near to damping the junior partner's enthusiasm at finding the head
of his fir