igure turned the corner of the street leading to the
Martels' and broke into a run. In one hand he carried a large suit-case,
and in the other he held a bead chain wrapped in tissue-paper. In the
breast pocket of his uniform was a paper stating that Quinby Graham was
thereby honorably discharged from the U.S.A.

Whether it was his enforced rest, or his state of mind, or a combination
of the two, it is impossible to say; but at least ten pounds had been
added to his figure, the hollows had about gone from his eyes, and a
natural color had returned to his face. But the old cough remained, as
was evident when he presented himself breathless at the Martels' door and
demanded of Cass:

"Has she gone?"

"Who?"

"Miss Bartlett."

"I believe she's fixing to go now. What's it to you?"

"Oh, I just want to say good-by," Quin threw off with a great show of
indifference. "She was awful good to me out at the hospital."

"Oh, I see." Then Cass dismissed the subject for one of far more
importance. "Are you out for keeps? Have you come to stay?"

"You bet I have. How long has she been here?"

"Who?"

"Miss Bartlett, I tell you."

"Oh! I don't know. All day, I reckon. I got to take her home now in a
minute, but I'll be back soon. Don't you go anywhere till I come back."

Quin seized his arm: "Cass, I'll take her home for you. I don't mind a
bit, honest I don't. I need some exercise."

"Old lady'd throw a fit," objected Cass. "Old grandmother, I mean.
Regular Tartar. Old aunts are just as bad. They devil the life out of
Nell, except when she's deviling the life out of them."

"How do you mean?" Quin encouraged him.

"I mean Nell's a handful all right. She kicks over the traces every time
she gets a chance. I don't blame her. They're a rotten bunch of snobs,
and she knows it."

"Well, I could leave her at the door," Quin urged. "I wouldn't let her in
for anything for the world. But I got to talk to her, I tell you; I got
to thank her----"

Meanwhile, in the room above the young lady under discussion was
leisurely adjusting a new and most becoming hat before a cracked mirror
while she discussed a subject of perennial interest to the eternal
feminine.

"Rose," she was asking, "what's the first thing you notice about a man?"

Rose, sitting on the side of the bed nursing little Bino, the latest
addition to the family, answered promptly:

"His mouth, of course. I wouldn't marry a man who showed his gums when he
laugh