“Pat, haven’t you a word to say to me? You aren’t sore at me still, are you? Oh, I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I was the world’s prize idiot. I realized that very soon after we quarreled but I was too proud to admit it. And you wrote me such icy, stiff letters while I was away.”

“Oh!” Pat began to laugh and cry at once. They got their arms around each other. Everything was all right…beautifully all right again.

It was a wonderful evening. Every one enjoyed Judy’s superlative supper, with Rae feeding the cats tid-bits and Tillytuck and Judy outdoing themselves telling stories. Again and again Rae’s eyes met Pat’s over the table in the old camaraderie. Even King William looked as if sometime he might really get across the Boyne. But the best of all came at bedtime when they settled down for the old delight of talking things over with Bold-and-Bad tensing and flexing his claws on Pat’s bed and Popka blinking goldenly on Rae’s.