“Hellion!  I got it on the authority of her own husband—­you!”

Tom rose and stamped over to the stove; he slammed its door and clattered the coffee-pot to drown this hateful persistence.  Having had the last word, as usual, Jerry retreated in satisfaction to his bed and stretched his aching frame upon it.

The dingy cabin was fragrant with the odor of cooking food for a second time that evening when the sound of voices and a knock at the door brought both old men to their feet.

Before they could answer, the door flew open and in and out of the frosty evening came Rouletta Kirby and ’Poleon Doret.  The girl’s cheeks were rosy, her eyes were sparkling; she warmly greeted first one partner, then the other.  Pausing, she sniffed the air hungrily.

“Goody!” she cried.  “We’re just in time.  And we’re as hungry as bears.”

“Dis gal ’ain’t never got ’nough to eat since she’s seeck in W’ite ’Orse,” ‘Poleon laughed.  “For las’ hour she’s been sayin’:  ’Hurry!  Hurry!  We goin’ be late.’  I ‘mos’ keel dem dog.”

Linton’s seamed face softened; it cracked into a smile of genuine pleasure; there was real hospitality and welcome in his voice when he said: 

“You’re in luck, for sure.  Lay off your things and pull up to the fire.  It won’t take a jiffy to parlay the ham and coffee—­one calls three, as they say.  No need to ask if you’re well; you’re prettier than ever, and some folks would call that impossible.”

Jerry nodded in vigorous agreement.  “You’re as sweet as a bunch of jessamine, Letty.  Why, you’re like a breath of spring!  What brought you out to see us, anyhow?”

“Dat’s long story,” ’Poleon answered.  “Sapre!  We got plenty talkin’ to do.  Letty she’s goin’ he’p you mak’ de supper now, an’ I fix dem dog.  We goin’ camp wit’ you all night.  Golly!  We have beeg tam.”

The new-comers had indeed introduced a breath of new, clean air.  Of a sudden the cabin had brightened, it was vitalized, it was filled with a magic purpose and good humor.  Rouletta flung aside her furs and bustled into the supper preparations.  Soon the meal was ready.  The first pause in her chatter came when she set the table for four and when Jerry protested that he had already dined.

The girl paused, plate in hand.  “Then we were late and you didn’t tell us,” she pouted, reproachfully.

“No.  I got through early, but Tom—­he was held up in the traffic.  You see, I don’t eat much, anyhow.  I just nibble around and take a cold snack where I can get it.”

“And you let him!” Rouletta turned to chide the other partner.  “He’ll come down sick, Tom and you’ll have to nurse him again.  If you boys won’t learn to keep regular meal hours I’ll have to come out and run your house for you.  Shall I?  Speak up.  What am I offered?”

Now this was the most insidious flattery.  “Boys” indeed!  Jerry chuckled, Tom looked up from the stove and his smoke-blue eyes were twinkling.