ee made and fetched to your room. Lean on me." He helped the
vagabond upstairs.

The New Yorker, whose sentimental follies were certainly a menace to
public safety and a premium to begging and vagabondage and crime, slept
well and late, and was awakened finally by the keen, bright ringing of
the telephone at his side. As he took up the receiver his whole face
illumined.

"Merry Christmas, Jimmy!"

. . . . . . . .

"What _wonderful_ roses! Thanks a thousand times!"

. . . . . . . .

"But of course I knew! No other man in New York is sentimental enough
to have a woman awakened at eight o'clock by a bunch of flowers!"

. . . . . . . .

"Forgive you!" (It was clear that she did.)

. . . . . . . .

"Jimmy, what a day for Tuxedo, and what a shame I can't go!"

. . . . . . . .

"You weren't going! You mean to say that you had refused?"

. . . . . . . .

"I don't understand--it's the connection--West?"

"Why, ranches look after themselves. They always do. They go right
on. You don't _mean_ it, on Christmas day!"

. . . . . . . .

"I shouldn't care for your reasons. They're sure to be
ridiculous--unpractical--unnecessary--don't tell them to me."

There was a pause, and then the voice, which had undergone a slight
change said:

"Jack's ill again ... that's why I couldn't go to Tuxedo. I shall pass
the day here in town. I called up to tell you this--and to
suggest--but since you're going West..."

Falconer's illnesses! How well Bulstrode knew them, and how well he
could see her alone in the familiar little drawing-room by a hearth not
built for a Christmas tree! He had promised Waring, "I'll stand by
you." It was a kind of vow--a real vow, and the poor tramp had lived
up to his.

"Jimmy." There was a note he had never heard before; if a tone can be
a tear, it was one.

He interrupted her.

. . . . . . . .

"How dear of you!"

. . . . . . . .

"But I haven't any Christmas tree!"

. . . . . . . .

"You'll fetch one? How _dear_ of you! We'll trim it--with your
roses--make it bloom. Come early and help me dress the tree."

Two hours later he opened the door into his breakfast-room with the
guiltiness of a truant boy. He wore culprit shame written all over his
face, and the young man who stood waiting for h