she stared at the
doorway a full second before she rose. Jarvis stood there looking at
her. He was powdered with snowflakes. He held his soft hat crushed
against him, showing his hair, glistening with snow, and curled close to
his head with dampness. It was his face that focussed her attention. The
old proud carriage of the head was there, but an asking look had come
into his eyes and mouth in place of the old arrogance. In the second she
hesitated she saw all this--caught the glow and the beauty of him, as
well as the appeal.

"Jarvis!" she cried, and met him halfway across the room, both hands
out.

"Bambi!" he answered her huskily, and she knew that he was moved at the
sight of her. He crushed her hands in his, and drank her in, from her
shining eyes to her boots, oblivious to the startled Professor, who
stood looking on.

"Welcome home!" said Bambi, unsteadily.

"Did you come through the roof?" inquired Professor Parkhurst.

"I had a passkey. How are you?" Jarvis laughed, mangling the Professor's
hand. The latter rescued and inspected his limp fingers.

"I am well, but I shall never use that hand again."

"You have come home," said Bambi, foolishly.

"I have. My, but it's good to be here! I got Frohman's approval on the
framework of the play to-day, and ran for the first train."

"Does the author approve, too?"

"She does. She is more or less a figurehead, but she seems reasonable."

"Oh, Jarvis, you're a nice Christmas present. Go put these wet things in
the hall, call on Ardelia, and come back. It will take at least a week
to say all the things I want to say to you."

He smiled at her, and marched off to do her bidding.

"He looks fine, doesn't he? I never realized before how handsome he is,"
said the Professor.

"He's thrilling!" replied Bambi.

Her father inspected her thoughtfully.

"What a talent you have for hitting people off! That is just it: he
thrills you with a feeling of youth and power."

"Plus some new and softer quality," added Bambi, as if to herself.

The powwow in the kitchen could be heard all over the house, Ardelia
welcoming home the Prodigal Son. It was only after long argument he
escaped the fatted calf. She could not conceive of him except as hungry
after many months in the heathen city.

When he came back into the library he swept with his eyes its caressing
harmony of colour, tone, and atmosphere. He had never noticed it before.
The Professor's beautiful profile, l