“They were all curious,” answered Miss Forrest, and the sound of her voice was different from that of the other voices.  If, as Doctor Brainard had jestingly but truthfully said, one who had seen her would not forget her, a similar statement might with equal truth be made of the hearing of her voice.  The one word Brown had asked from her lips could certainly have revealed her to him—­and would have done so while he had a memory.

“To see if we know how to keep Thanksgiving here?” Brown inquired of the group, though his eyes came back again to Helena Forrest’s face.

“To see if you had anything to be thankful for,” cried Sue Breckenridge.  “Well, Don, now that we are here, are you going to invite us to stay?  Or—­is your present company—­”

Brown wheeled and went over to the boys, who were staring, open-eyed and motionless.

“You’ll help me out, fellows, won’t you?” he said in a low tone—­and they felt him still one of them, for the tone was the old one of comradeship.  “You see, I have nowhere to ask my guests to sit down.  If each of you will take what you can at a time, and carry everything out into the kitchen, and then take out the table, I’ll be much obliged.  You are coming again soon, you know; but for to-night, you see, I must call it off.  Tom, you’ll see to taking off the tablecloth, will you?  Fold it up any sort of way, but don’t let the crumbs get out.  All right?”

There was a tumultuous pushing back of chairs.  In short order it was all accomplished.  The guests stood at one side, looking at the boys as curiously as the boys had looked at them, while the dishes disappeared as fast as many hands could carry them.  The big bowl of geraniums was removed by Brown himself, who set it carefully upon his reading-table at the side of the room, and the tablecloth was painstakingly manipulated by Tom Kelcey so that hardly a crumb fell upon the floor.  There was one crash of crockery in the kitchen, followed by a smothered howl from the boy who in his agitation had done the deed, but this was the only accident.

Brown turned again to his guests.

“Now,” said he, “will you make yourselves at home?  It’s a cold night out.  Let’s have off the furs and sit by the fire.  Mrs. Brainard, allow me to help you out of that coat.  This is the happiest sort of a surprise for me!”

X

BROWN’S ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS

Donald Brown stood at the end of his hearth, his elbow resting on the chimney-piece, his eyes, narrowed a little between the lashes, intently regarding these latest guests of his.  He was in the shadow, they were in the strong light of the fire.  A great lump of cannel coal, recently laid upon the red-hot embers and half-burned logs of the afternoon fire, had just broken apart with a great hissing and crackling of the pitchy richness of its inner formation, and the resultant glow of rosy light which enveloped the figures before the hearth, against the duller background of the room, otherwise unillumined, made them stand out like figures in a cleverly lighted tableau.