"Sure! It's a dinner—a T'anksgivin' dinner bringed in to us. Now ain't ye comin'?"
"A dinner, did you say?—brought to you?"
"Yeaup!"
"Who brings it?"
"A lady what comes ter see me an' Kitty sometimes; an' she's a peacherino, she is! She said she 'd bring it."
"Do you know—her name?" The words came a little breathlessly.
"You bet! Why, she's our friend, I tell ye! Her name is Miss Daisy
Carrolton; dat 's what 't is."
The man relaxed in his chair. It was the dearest girl in the world.
"Say, ain't ye comin'?" urged the boy, anxiously.
"Coming? Of course I'm coming," cried the man, with sudden energy.
"Just catch hold of that chair back there, lad, and you'll see."