“He fancied,” said Brown—­“he and the mother—­that there was a slight resemblance between my looks and those of the son.  And they have a finer memorial of him than anything he wore; they have one end of the burned plank.  The father has cut the date on it, with his son’s name, and it hangs over the chimney-piece.”

“What a tragic thing!” cried Sue, shuddering.  “I don’t see how they can keep it.  Do tell us something else, Don.  Doesn’t anything amusing ever happen here?  Oh—­what became of the baby?”

Brown rose suddenly to his feet.  “I’m forgetting my hospitality,” said he.  “I’m going to make you all some coffee.  The baby, Sue, is at Mrs. Kelcey’s, next door.  Having only six of her own, she could easily make room for the seventh.”

“Tell us about the baby,” demanded Webb Atchison.  “Has Don gone into the nursery business, with all the rest?”

Sue began to tell the story, describing the night on which she made her first visit to her brother.  Brown disappeared into the kitchen and soon returned, bringing with him, as was his entertaining custom, the materials for brewing his coffee upon the hob.

“You remember,” he said, as he came, “the way this room was cleared for your reception?”

“By an avalanche of boys, who swept everything, hurly-burly, into outer darkness,” supplied Breckenridge.

“You can guess, perhaps, what the kitchen must be looking like, can’t you?”

“Indescribable,” murmured Sue.  “You’re not going to invite us to put it in order for you, are you, Don?—­and wash all those dreadful, gaudy plates and cups?”

“Just take a look out there, will you?”

Sue shook her head, but Mrs. Brainard went to the door, followed by Atchison and Miss Forrest.  They looked out upon a low-ceiled, lamp-lighted room, in absolute order, in which was not a trace of the late festival-making except the piles of clean dishes upon the table, under which lay Bim, nose on paws, alert eyes on the strangers.

“Magic?” queried Mrs. Brainard.  “Surely those noisy boys couldn’t accomplish such a miracle?”

“Never.  Though I suspect they were put to work by a good general, for the borrowed chairs are gone and so are several other bulky articles.  There’s no difficulty in guessing who did the deed,” said Brown, busy with his coffee-making.

He served his guests presently with a beverage which made Atchison exclaim:  “The old chap certainly knows how to make the best stuff I ever drank.  When I tasted this brew first I invited myself to come out and stay a week with him, but he wouldn’t have me.”

“You’re too polished an article for his hand; he wants his work-stuff raw,” Doctor Brainard said again.  Evidently this point rankled.  Brown looked up.

“I’ll challenge you to stay and have it out with me, Doctor,” said he.

“Thank you, I came for no other purpose,” retorted the doctor coolly.  “These people brought me up to have a look at you, and I’m not going back till morning.”