the chimney-cans?"

"Me? You must get younger eyes than mine, Heriot."

"I can count them," he answered.

"_You_ can! But I thought you'd been complaining you couldn't always
recognize people across the street nowadays."

"I can count those chimneys," he repeated. "I've counted them five
times, and they come to fourteen each time. I'd like to get some one
younger to count them too. Where's Madge Dunbar?"

He started impetuously for the door.

"She's dressing!" cried the horrified lady. "You can't get her in
here--you with your coat off, too!"

Mr. Walkingshaw turned back.

"Well, anyhow," said he, "I'll lay you half a crown there are fourteen
chimneys on Henderson's house. Will you take it up?"

"When did you hear I'd taken to betting?" she gasped.

He waved aside the reproach airily, much as he waved aside everything
she said nowadays, the poor lady reflected. His next words merely
deepened her distress.

"Look at my face carefully," he commanded. "Study it--touch it if you
like--examine it with a lens--give it your undivided attention while I
count twenty."

He counted slowly, while she stared conscientiously, afraid even to
wink. "Now, what have you observed?"

"You're looking very well, Heriot," she answered timidly.

"Did you ever see a man of my age look better?"

"N--no," she stammered.

"Well, don't be afraid to say so, for it's perfectly true. Do you mind a
kind of deep wrinkle under my eyes? Where's that gone now?"

"I can't imagine, Heriot."

"Well, don't look distressed; it's bonnier away."

"Yes," she said in a flustered voice, "you do have a kind of smoother
look."

"Smoother and harder," he replied, prodding his ribs with his fingers.

She gave a little cry of distress.

"You're growing thin! Your waistcoat's hanging quite loose. Oh, Heriot,
it's terrible to see you that way!"

Her heart might be a little withered by all those northern winters, with
never another heart to keep it warm, but it could still beat faster at a
breath of suspicion cast upon her hospitality. She had not been feeding
her only brother properly!

"Tell me yourself what you'd like for your dinner!" she entreated him.

He laughed at her genially.

"Pooh! Tuts! Did you ever in your life see me eat a better dinner than
I've been taking lately? You might give one a suet pudding oftener, but
that's all I have to complain of."

Heriot had always been addicted to suet pudding, but for a number of
years pa