tired and
very sleepy; and the sun was high in the heavens before any one
of that household awoke.

Anyone? No, not quite; for, with characteristic thoughtfulness,
Tom Walsh, waking earlier than the others, stole quietly out into
the kitchen and began to make the fire and grind the coffee for
breakfast. Mrs. Kenyon, hearing him, came downstairs at once.
She, alone, had scarcely slept at all that night. Her fears
for Ralph's health, as well as the thought of having soon to go
all the way to New York with Doctor Kane and undergo an operation,
had banished slumber. Seeing Walsh engaged in his kindly efforts,
she smiled as she laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"Tom Walsh, you dear man, go right back and get your forty winks!"
she said. "What do you mean by this?---and in my house, too!"

"You think I can't cook breakfast, eh? I want you to know I'm a
fust-class cook!" said Tom, in genial protest. "Sit down there,
now, and let me-----"

"I won't! You're a good soul, Tom, and I know you'll make a husband
that any sensible woman'll be proud of, because I can see you've
been well trained. By the way, Tom, how's Sue Turpin nowadays? And
when will she name the happy day?"

Tom colored up to the roots of his thin, sandy, curly hair. So
Mrs. Kenyon, too, had heard of his wooing of Susan Turpin, the
miller's daughter! Well, why not, since it had become a pleasant
topic of gossip in the countryside? But he made no immediate reply,
except a grin, and Mrs. Kenyon continued tactfully:

"Yes, an excellent husband, Tom---but never a cook. Your dear
old mother told me, the last time she came over to see me, that
you can no more cook than you can fly! And she thinks you're
an angel, too! So just you hand me that coffee-pot and that frying-pan,
and trot out to the poultry house and get me some fresh eggs."

"All right, if you say so," assented Tom. "I'll feed the horse,
too. Suppose Ralph won't be up an' around for quite a spell yet?"

"No; I guess not," answered Mrs. Kenyon, relapsing into a more
serious mood.

"Say, Mrs. Kenyon, why don't you ask them two Boy Scout friends of
his to stay here and help him with the farm work while you're away?"
was Tom's suggestion.

"Oh, I simply can't go away and leave the poor boy now!"

"Nonsense!" replied Tom. "You've got to go, if the doc says so.
Anyway, Ralph'll be O.K. And them two boys'll be pleased to stay.
I know they will. Take my advice and ask 'em."

"I