s, sure enough there was a fine, fat roast
chicken. The colonel, who lived in town and did not keep chickens, asked
Plato how much he had paid for it. Plato almost dropped the cover.
'Mars' George,' he said with real solicitude in his voice,' is you
sick?' And speaking of turkeys--"

"Who was speaking of turkeys?" asked Dorothy.

"Why, I think this chicken is superior to any domestic turkey I ever
tasted," concluded Bronson.

"Was you ever in politics?" queried Lorry. And they all laughed
heartily.

After dinner Lorry asked for an apron.

Dorothy shook her finger at him. "It's nice of you--but you don't mean
it."

"Now, ma wouldn't 'a' said that, miss. She'd 'a' just tied one of her
aprons on me and turned me loose on the dishes. I used to help her like
that when I was a kid. Ma runs the hotel at Stacey."

"Why, didn't we stop there for dinner?" asked Dorothy.

"Yes, indeed. All right, Adams, I'll wash 'em and you can dry 'em, and
Dorothy can rest."

"It's a right smilin' little apron," commented Lorry as Dorothy handed
it to him.

"And you do look funny! My, I didn't know you were so big! I'll have to
get a pin."

"I reckon it's the apron looks funny," said Lorry.

"I made it," she said, teasing him.

"Then that's why it is so pretty," said Lorry gravely.

Dorothy decided to change the subject. "I think you should let me wash
the dishes, father."

"You cooked the dinner, Peter Pan."

"Then I'll go over and try the piano. May I?"

"If you'll play for us when we come over, Miss Bronson."

Bronson and Lorry sat on the veranda and smoked. Dorothy was playing a
sprightly melody. She ceased to play, and presently the sweet old tune
"Annie Laurie" came to them. Lorry, with cigarette poised in his
fingers, hummed the words to himself. Bronson was watching him
curiously. The melody came to an end. Lorry sighed.

"Sounds like that ole piano was just singin' its heart out all by
itself," he said. "I wish Bud could hear that."

Almost immediately came the sprightly notes of "Anitra's Dance."

"And that's these here woods--and the water prancin' down the rocks, and
a slim kind of a girl dancin' in the sunshine and then runnin' away to
hide in the woods again." And Lorry laughed softly at his own conceit.

"Do you know the tune?" queried Bronson.

"Nope. I was just makin' that up."

"That's just Dorothy," said Bronson.

Lorry turned and gazed at him. And without knowing how it came about,
Lorry unde