Well, that’s all there is to it.  The place filled up and stayed filled, but not under Mr. Pierce.  Mr. Jennings said ability of his kind was wasted there, once the place was running, and set him to building a railroad somewhere or other, with him and Miss Patty living in a private car, and he carrying a portable telephone with him so he can talk to her every hour or so.  Mr. Dick and his wife are running the sanatorium, or think they are.  Doctor Barnes is the whole place, really.  Mr. Jennings was so glad to have Miss Patty give up the prince and send him back home, after he’d been a week in the hotel at Finleyville looking as if his face would collapse if you stuck a pin in it—­Mr. Jennings was so happy, not to mention having worked off his gout at the wood-pile, that he forgave the Dickys without any trouble, and even went out and had a meal with them in the shelter-house before they moved in, with Mr. Dick making the coffee.

I miss the spring, as I said at the beginning.  It is hard to teach an old dog new tricks, but with Miss Patty happy, and with Doctor Barnes around—­

Thoburn came out the afternoon before he left, just after the rest hour, and showed me how much too loose his waistcoat had become.

“I’ve lost, Minnie,” he confessed.  “Lost fifteen pounds and the dream of my life.  But I’ve found something, too.”

“What?”

“My waist line!” he said, and threw his chest out.

“You look fifteen years younger,” I said, and at that he came over to me and took my hand.

“Minnie,” he said, “maybe you and I haven’t always agreed, but I’ve always liked you, Minnie—­always.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking my hand away.

“You’ve got all kinds of spirit,” he said.  “You’ve saved the place, all right.  And if you—­if you tire of this, and want another home, I’ve got one, twelve rooms, center hall, tiled baths, cabinet mantels—­I’d be good to you, Minnie.  The right woman could do anything with me.”

When I grasped what he meant, I was staggered.

“I’m sorry,” I explained, as gently as I could.  “I’m—­I’m going to marry Doctor Barnes one of these days.”

He stared at me.  Then he laughed a little and went toward the door.

“Barnes!” he said, turning.  “Another redhead, by gad!  Well, I’ll tell you this, young woman, you’re red, but he’s redder.  Your days for running things to suit yourself are over.”

“I’m glad of it,” I retorted.  “I want to be managed myself for a change.  Somebody,” I said, “who won’t be always thinking how he feels, unless it’s how he feels toward me.”

“Bah!  He’ll bully you.”

“‘It’s human nature to like to be bullied,’” I quoted.  “And I guess I’m not afraid.  He’s healthy and a healthy man’s never a crank.”

“A case of yours for health, eh?” he said, and held out his hand.

THE END