r!"

"One thing the war has taught us," said Grant, modestly, "is that men
are pretty much alike, whether they come from west or east or north or
south. No race has a monopoly of heroism."

"Well, come on in," Transley beckoned, leading the way. "Dinner will be
ready sharp on time twenty minutes late. Not being a married man, Grant,
you will not understand that reckoning. You'll have to excuse Mrs.
Transley a few minutes; she's holding down the accelerator in the
kitchen. Come in; I want you to meet Squiggs."

Squiggs proved to be a round man with huge round tortoise-shell glasses
and round red face to match. He shook hands with a manner that suggested
that in doing so he was making rather a good fellow of himself.

"We must have a little lubrication, for Y.D.'s sake," said Transley,
producing a bottle and glasses. "I suppose it was the dust on the plains
that gave these old cow punchers a thirst which never can be slaked.
These be evil days for the old-timers. Grant?"

"Not any, thanks."

"No? Well, there's no accounting for tastes. Squiggs?"

"I'm a lawyer," said Squiggs, "and as booze is now ultra vires I do
my best to keep it down," and Mr. Squiggs beamed genially upon his
pleasantry and the full glass in his hand.

"I take a snort when I want it and I don't care who knows it," said Y.D.
"I al'us did, and I reckon I'll keep on to the finish. It didn't snuff
me out in my youth and innocence, anyway. Just the same, I'm admittin'
it's bad medicine in onskilful hands. Here's ho!"

The glasses had just been drained when Mrs. Transley entered the room,
flushed but radiant from a strenuous half hour in the kitchen.

"Well, here you are!" she exclaimed. "So glad you could come, Mr. Grant.
Why, Mr. Linder! Of all people--This IS a pleasure. And Mr.--?"

"Mr. Murdoch," Transley supplied.

"My chief of staff; the man who persists in keeping me rich," Grant
elaborated.

"I mustn't keep you waiting longer. Dinner is ready. Dad, you are to
carve."

"Hanged if I will! I'm a guest here, and I stand on my rights," Y.D.
exploded.

"Then you must do it, Frank."

"I suppose so," said Transley, "although all I get out of a meal when
I have to carve is splashing and profanity. You know, Squiggs, I've
figured it out that this practice of requiring the nominal head of the
house to carve has come down from the days when there wasn't usually
enough to go 'round, and the carver had to make some fine decisions
and, perhaps