less sort of place, but they were all too glad to find shelter, to
make any complaints. "And now," he continued, having lighted a lamp,
"make yourselves as comfortable as you can, while I find Sam and get
some things to render our plight a little more endurable."

"If he could slip our overcoats out of the hall and bring them here,"
suggested Plowden.

"Of course he can. Don't be uneasy; you'll be all right in a few
minutes."

"No, we won't," muttered Wildfen, querulously, in an undertone.

"Of course; we shall be quite jolly, you know," spoke up Honey
cheerfully, in reply to Rutherford's encouraging words.

Plowden said nothing. His soul was precipitated into a depth of gloom,
where its only company was a vaguely-formed but terrible demon labelled
"Bigamy." It was that presence, even more than the weather, which made
him shiver.

Rutherford was gone but a short time, and when he returned was
accompanied by Sam, who bore a load of overcoats and a bottle of some
amber fluid that seemed to bestow warmth and animation. The faithful old
servant proved himself an able skirmisher. Snatching a pillow from one
room and a blanket from another, making prey of a quilt here and a
comforter there, he succeeded eventually in getting from the
guest-chambers a fair supply of bedding, which he transferred to the
billiard-house. He also got in an ample pile of wood, with which Honey
skilfully made a rousing fire on the broad, open hearth. Honey, too,
utilized the bedding as it was brought in, making as comfortable couches
as possible under the circumstances, on a sofa and three chairs for
Plowden and Wildfen, and upon the floor for himself. Rutherford dragged
from a closet an old hammock that he sometimes used to take a summer
afternoon nap in, and said he would sleep in that, with a blanket around
him. Honey found another lamp and lighted it. What with the cheery glow
of the dancing firelight, the bright lamps, and the colors of the
bedding distributed about, the erstwhile dismal room began to seem
rather pleasant, and in great measure the happy transformation was due
to Honey's readiness and ability in doing things which belonged to his
proper sphere of effort.

"Are we going to bed?" asked Plowden, sadly.

"I should say not," ejaculated Wildfen. "Why, it isn't more than eight
o'clock."

"I am in no humor for sleep to-night," said Rutherford, moodily.

"I'm hagreeable for hanythink," remarked Honey, amiably.

"What do you