"That's right," nodded the doctor. "We will have her out safe and sound in a few days."
Steve did not know whether they would or not, but he aided in bringing cheer to all the household that night.
"Now I think we are ready for supper. These chops are done to a turn, and——"
"Here, the kiddie's going to have first shot at the chops!" exclaimed Bob.
Picking up a fork, Jarvis speared a steaming hot chop from the pan, and, running across the room, held it out for the baby in Mrs. Olsen's arms.
The child extended a chubby fist for the hot morsel, whereat its mother uttered a cry of protest and quickly drew the child out of harm's way.
"Mercy! Don't do that! It would kill the little one."
"What, a lamb chop kill anybody? Why, I've eaten hundreds of them, and they have never killed me yet."
"What on earth are you trying to do, Bob?" demanded Steve Rush, turning on his companion.
"Oh, he wants the baby to eat a chop," answered Mrs. Olsen, half laughing, half crying.