"Oh, Rose, please do!" cried Myrna. "I won't take but one help."
Cass, in the meanwhile, was making his guest at home in the sitting-room by permitting him to be useful.
"You can light the lamp," he said, "while I make a fire."
Quin was willing to oblige, but the lamp was not. It put up a stubborn resistance to all efforts to coax it to do its duty.
"I bet it hasn't been filled," said Cass; then, after the fashion of mankind, he lifted his voice in supplication to the nearest feminine ear:
"Oh! Ro—ose!"
His older sister, coming to the rescue, agreed with his diagnosis of the case, and with Quin's assistance bore the delinquent lamp to the kitchen.
"Hope you don't mind being made home-folks," she said, patting the puffs over her ears and looking at him sideways.
"Mind?" said Quin. "If you knew how good all this looks to me! It's the first touch of home I've had in years. Wish you'd let me set the table—I'm strong on K. P."
"Help yourself," said Rose; "the plates are in the pantry and the silver in the sideboard drawer. Wait a minute!"