“No work’s going on.”

“Then we’ll be delighted to have you come—­and Dave also, of course.  There’s an especially fattened turkey ready to slide into the oven now.  Father has just said, too, to tell you that there’s going to be something else—­Tom and Jerry.  How does that sound?”

“Like a man and a boy coming down the road toward Diamond Creek,” Lee answered, with a laugh.  “Thank you for your thoughtfulness in remembering us.”

“I’ll judge how sincere you are by the amount of turkey you eat,” she said.  “Dinner will be about one o’clock.”

“We shall be prompt.”

Lee hung up the receiver, then glanced at his watch.  It was ten.  He reseated himself at his desk and endeavoured to fasten his thoughts upon the entries in the book before him, but at last he exclaimed, throwing down his pen:  “Damned if I can or will!” and jumped up, and went to tramping about the office, and when Dave’s cat and kitten presented themselves to be stroked, unfeelingly thrust them aside with his boot as he tramped.  And when Dave came in, about half-past eleven, the boy found him part way into a clean white shirt, with the cat and the kitten eying him resentfully, and received the order:  “Get a move on you; we’re going to the Grahams’ for dinner.  See that you scrub your face, too—­and ears!” Which left Dave quite as indignant as the cat, for he always washed his ears.

They arrived at the Graham ranch house shortly after noon, where wreaths of holly, strings of evergreen, and red paper bells created a Christmas atmosphere.  Coming from their cold ride into these cheerful rooms and to a warm welcome, the hearts of both man and boy glowed with unaccustomed feeling.  And throughout the dinner that followed betimes—­during which Mr. Graham’s pleasantries and Louise’s gay spirits and mirth evoked in Lee a blitheness to which he long had been a stranger and in Dave a state of joyous bliss—­they luxuriated in halcyon well-being.  After the meal Louise, at her father’s suggestion, went to the piano and sang while the men were smoking their cigars.  And then followed an hour at cards, High Five, at which Mr. Graham and Dave won the most games; and then a maid, a Mexican girl, Rosita, brought in a bowl of nuts and raisins for the rancher and the boy who settled themselves for a match at checkers, and Lee and Louise strolled to a window seat at the other end of the long living room.

A delicate pink was in the girl’s cheeks.  Her eyes were tender under their long lashes; a smile still lingered on her lips.  It was as if her countenance, her mind, her spirit, were suffused with the happiness and peace of the hour, of the day.

“My poor one-armed man, how is he?” she asked.  “I intended to go see him, but the cold has been so steady that I gave it up.  You said over the telephone several days ago that he was doing as well as could be expected.”

“Quite out of danger now,” Lee replied.  “The doctor told him a lady assisted at the operation and now he’s full of curiosity regarding you.”