forgive Rita's little stratagem
for the sake of the pleasure it has given her."

"My dear nephew," said Uncle John, "you have brought me the most
enchanting birthday gift that ever a man had. Let me look at you again,
Rita! If ever happiness agreed with a person--but I must not begin upon
compliments now. I want you to know these cousins and friends. Here is
Hugh Montfort and Jean; here is Grace Wolfe, who is to be your cousin
one of these good days; and here are our friends Gerald and Philip
Merryweather. You have all heard of one another; let us all be friends
at once, without further ceremony, and keep this joyful feast
together."

"Supper is served, sir," said Elizabeth.

A joyful feast it was indeed. The table, decked with ferns and roses,
was covered with every good thing that Frances could think of, and she
could think of a good many. The candles shed their cheerful light on
all, though the faces hardly needed the artificial light. Amid general
mirth, Rita told of her plan; her letter of inquiry to Frances and
Elizabeth, asking if all were well, and if their coming would make any
inconvenience. Then the telegram to Bannan, and the arrival, to find him
awaiting them with the best horse the stable afforded; and, finally,
their stealthy entrance at the back door. All had been triumphantly
successful, and as Rita told her story, she laughed and clapped her
hands with the glee of a child, while every face glowed responsive.

[Illustration: "'I PROPOSE . . . THE HEALTH OF THE BEST MAN . . . THAT
LIVES UPON THIS EARTH TO-DAY; . . . THE HEALTH OF MY UNCLE JOHN!'"]

"And now," said Rita Del Monte, springing to her feet, and lifting high
her glass, "I wish to propose a toast--the only fitting toast for this
night. I propose, dear friends, and dear strangers whom I hope to
have for friends, the health of the best man--ah, Jack, you have not had
time yet, nor you others; but courage, time is before you!--of the best
man, I say, that lives upon this earth to-day; the dearest, the
kindest--oh, all please drink to the health of my Uncle John!"

One and all were upon their feet; all bending forward, glass in hand,
eager and joyous, their eyes shining with love and admiration; and from
one and all came the same glad cry, "Uncle John!"

"Because if one hasn't the luck to be really his nephew," said Gerald,
"the least one can do is to make a bluff at it."

And here, at this happy moment, let us leave our friends. Good-by,