“I didn’t!  It is Mr. Randolph you ought to be thanking, not me!  He—­”

There was a dash across the room and the receiver was caught from her hand.

“No, no!  I had nothing to do with it!  I only filled my wife’s order—­that’s all!”

“Nelson Randolph!” she expostulated.  “Let me have the telephone!”

But he shook his head.  “Thank you, Miss Crilly, on her behalf!  I’m mighty glad you like them.  What’s that?  Oh, well, if she did, I should be there beside her, thanking Him for giving me so good a wife!”

“What are you talking about?  I want to know!”

With a smile he relinquished the instrument.

“I heard you say that!  I told him that Miss Mullaly said you ought to get down on your knees every day of your life and thank the Lord for giving you such a good husband.”

“You can tell Miss Mullaly that is just what I do!”

“My!  I will.  Isn’t this fun, to be talking with you this way!—­and at midnight, too!  Oh, why didn’t I think of it when he was there!  Well, you thank him for us all!  You ought to have heard us gabble when we found those five-dollar gold pieces in our baskets!  It was lovely of him to do it!  And those shoes you gave me—­did you crochet them yourself?”

“Certainly.”

“All those stitches for me!  They’re beautiful!  I’ve always wished I had some of that kind.  And—­just think!—­I shouldn’t be here to-night if it hadn’t been for you!  Oh, I couldn’t thank you enough if I should live to be a thousand years old!  You’ll be sure and come to our tree, won’t you?”

“We will look in on you some time during the evening.  We can run away from the Dudleys’ for a little while.”

“Well, I am so full of happiness I believe one drop more would make my eyes spill over!  I never thought I should chime in with Mis’ Puddicombe, but to-night I do!  June Holiday Home is the gate of heaven—­and all because of you and Polly!”

THE END