"Couldn't I see them?" begged the man, almost like a boy. "I could pretend I was a friend of yours, visiting you, who liked children. I would promise not to tell them until you consented."

 

"That might do," said Dr. McAllister. "If they grew to like you before they knew who you were, it would make things easier, certainly."

 

So James Henry Cordyce's chauffeur¹ was sent for a gold-monogrammed suitcase and his young man to wait upon him, and Irish Mary held up her hands in despair when she learned for whom she must cook.

 

"Don't you worry, Mary Bridget Flynn," said Dr. McAllister with emphasis. "You could cook for the King of England! Just make one of your peach shortcakes for lunch and broil² a chicken, and I'll answer for him."

 

When lunch time came J. H. Cordyce saw all his grandchildren except Violet. He smiled with delight when he saw Jess coming down the stairs in her womanly fashion. Henry shook hands with him before he sat down, but he kept glancing at the stranger all through the meal.

 

"Where have I seen that man before?" he thought.

 

Mrs. McAllister had given the children's names clearly when she introduced them—Jess, Benny, and Henry. Henry James, she had added. But she had not added the man's name.

 

"She forgot," thought Jess. "Because she knows him so well, she thinks we do."

 

But although nameless, the stranger caught their attention. He told them wonderful stories about a steel rail which held up an entire bridge until the people had time to get off, about his collie dog, about a cucumber in his garden, growing inside of a glass bottle. Henry was interested. Benny was fascinated.

 

"I'd like to see the cucumber," said Benny, pausing in the middle of his shortcake.

 

"Would you, indeed?" said Mr. Cordyce, delighted. "Some day, if Mrs. McAllister is willing, you and I will ride over to my garden and pick it."

 

"And we'll bring it to Violet?" asked Benny, waiting breathlessly for an answer.

 

"We'll bring it to Violet," agreed Mr. Cordyce, resuming his shortcake.

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