his is! Who could have dreamed, a twelve-month ago, that
this scraggy bluff could be made into such beautiful homes, and that the
dismal flat-iron below, dumping-place for tincans, frit, and cinders, as
it was, could bloom out into that neat grassy park with growing trees
along its walks, and flower-beds everywhere. Truly, money talks."

"Not money alone, Mr. Dalton. Something else must talk with it, seems to
me."

"Oh, energy and taste to be sure."

"And good will."

"Granted, but----"

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" in shrieks from Dodo, who flies to Joyce's arms, Robin
tearing beside her, vindictively shaking something limp and tousled in
his sharp white teeth. "It's mine dolly, mine dolly. Oh, Doyce!"

The rag doll rescued from oblivion and Robin boxed, Mr. Dalton thought
it time to introduce his business, and began:

"I came, as always, on a matter which concerns your affairs, Miss
Lavillotte. I wanted to say----"

"Isn't my Doyce doin' to hab 'fweshments foh her comp'nay," broke in an
insinuating little voice, in sweetest accents. "I comed back to tell you
'twould be perlite. Dat's de way my mamma does," and Dodo, first on one
foot, then the other, performed a sort of fetish dance around the two,
praying for the burnt offerings.

"Yes, yes, presently Dodo. Go on in, and ask Katie to send out cakes and
lemonade, if you like. Now, Mr. Dalton."

"Yes, as I was about to say, I wanted----"

"Tan we hab tookies?" from Dodo.

"Of course, cookies if you want. Now run along!"

"Tan we hab toast-tookies?" persisted the bit of femininity.

Dodo had a way of lumping everything in the line of cookery that was
brown and crisp under the name of "toast," from potatoes to pie. The
cookies she referred to were simply a toothsome molasses cake, spread
out thin and cut into crisp delicious squares, which Katie kept in a jar
with rounded sides, after breaking apart. That jar was a mine of riches
to the child, and those sweeties her pet confection. In fact, she had
readily taken the large contract of keeping the jar from overflowing,
and was the principal consumer of "toast cookies." Smiling helplessly,
Joyce assented.

"Yes, toast-cookies it shall be."

She gave the child a little push and nodded towards her manager to urge
haste. He galloped ahead.

"I wanted to say that this escaped criminal does prove to be Lozcoski,
the man I told you of who attempted once to fire the Works. He had
heaped kindlings, dipped in kerosene, wherev