"If you ain't a Fairchild, I 'll never feed another miner corned beef and cabbage as long as I live.
Ain't you now ?" she persisted, "ain't you a Fairchild ?" The man laughed in spite of himself.

"You guessed it." "You 're Thornton Fairchild's boy!" She had reached out for his handbag, and then, bustling about him, drew him into the big "parlor" with its old-fashioned, plush-covered chairs, its picture album, its glass-covered statuary on the old, onyx mantel.

"Did n't I know you the minute I saw you?
Land, you're the picture of your dad! Sakes alive, how is he ?" There was a moment of silence.

Fairchild found himself suddenly halting and boyish as he stood before her.
"He 's--he 's gone, Mrs.Howard." "Dead ?" She put up both hands.

"It don't seem possible.