The dapper Peters was left alone at his desk, but not for long. In a few minutes the street door opened and Bill Jones, with a certain air about him—one might even say with a certain flourish in his manner—sauntered in. He ambled up to the desk.

"Who might you be?" he asked, casually, his half-shut eyes making an inventory of Peters.

"I'm the manager!" Peters snapped.

"No, you ain't," said Bill, grinning.

"What's the reason I ain't?" inquired Peters.

"Because you're fired," said Bill, calmly, turning his back and putting his hands in his pockets. He gazed slowly around from floor to ceiling, and then at the walls. Peters came from behind the desk and stood close to him.

"Say, Mrs. Jones pulled something like that on me," he said, "but I ain't taking no orders from you people! I take my orders from Mr. Hammond!"

"Is that so?" asked Bill, nonchalantly. Drawing a letter from his pocket, he handed it to the clerk. "Well, here they are!" he said.

Peters opened the letter and read it.

"Well, if I'm fired," he sighed, "I suppose I can go back to my old job."

A stealthy foot on the floor made Bill turn around to greet Zeb, who had put his head in the door.

"Got a segar for me, Bill?" Zeb whispered.

Bill went over to the drawer in the California desk, where he knew there was a box of cigars. He took one, extending it to Zeb. But the latter, looking toward the dining-room, saw Millie coming, and in spite of the fact that he wanted that cigar as desperately as he had ever wanted anything, force of habit sent him scuttling out of the room as he warned Bill, hoarsely, "Look out!"

Bill called him back. "What you 'fraid of? It's only Millie."

"Well," said Zeb, intrepid enough to grab the cigar, but not brave enough to stay, "I'll see you to-morrow, when the women-folks is working. It's safer then."

Millie rushed over and took Bill in her arms, kissing him again and again, while Bill, unused to such demonstration, tried to disengage himself.

"Did you just get here, daddy?" she asked, gazing fondly at him.

"Yes," was his reply, as he sat down in the chair in front of the table.

"Have you seen mother?" she asked, standing very close to him.

Bill, remembering the old days when his return home meant a searching examination as to soberness, grinned, and then he breathed deeply toward her. "I 'ain't had a drink in a month," he informed her.

She laughed and was silent for a moment. Looking down at the floor, she asked, "Did you come alone, daddy?"

"Yes," he answered, slowly scrutinizing her. "Why didn't you speak to John before you left the court to-day?" he asked, after a moment in which he gazed at her intently.

Tears came into her eyes and she leaned her head on his shoulder. "I just couldn't, daddy, that was all."

Bill placed a reassuring hand on her hair.

"Well, it's all right. I fixed it for you," he said, slowly. Millie stepped back aghast, blushing violently. "You did what?"

But Bill was unabashed. "I got him to promise he would come over here and see you." Bill had done no such thing, but the one flaw to a perfect happiness for him was the thought that John Marvin and Millie might not make up.

"You asked him to come over and see me?" Millie asked, in dismay.

"No," said Bill, with a quiet grin; "I just told him you were crazy to see him. You would have lost him if it hadn't been for me. Every girl in Reno is crazy about John, but I got him so he's willing to marry you."

"Oh, daddy, I don't know what I am going to do with you!" Millie was almost in tears and leaned dejectedly on a shoulder indifferent through habit and not will.

"You don't mean to say you asked John Marvin to marry me?" she pouted.

"Sure I did," said Bill, untouched by any thought of having done what was not right. "It was a tough job after the way you treated him," he admonished, dropping into the chair and tipping it back while he clasped his hands behind his head and whistled. "I told him," he went on, "that you had made a fool of yourself, but that most women did that now and then, and not to mind it. After he's been married awhile he'll get used to it. I asked him, if you would own up that you were wrong like mother did, would he give you another chance?" Bill looked up at her, adding, complacently, "'Ain't I done a good piece of business?"

Millie gave one shriek and ran up the stairs. Bill, unmoved by any sense of his own iniquity, followed her to the foot of the staircase, calling after her, "Now, if you beg his pardon when he comes—"

She stopped at the top step and looked back. "Beg his pardon!" she exclaimed, defiantly. "I don't even intend to see him when he comes!"

Bill held out one hand toward her in a deprecating gesture.

"Oh, come along down-stairs again." Taking a little square box from his pocket, he opened it and held it up to view, saying, "If you don't see him, what is he going to do with this?"

"What is it?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her anger as she came slowly back down the stairs. Bill showed her his prize in its nest of bright purple velvet. "He got it for you. He sent me out to buy it while he was in court!"

Mildred looked at the thing, and with one long "Oh!" of disgust she turned and went through the door into the dining-room.

Alone once more, Bill walked slowly, going to the desk and looking at the register. Then he went back of the desk, examining familiar objects. Suddenly his eyes rested on the electric-light switchboard. He played with the lights for several seconds, turning them out finally. With a start he grunted, "Now I broke 'em." Pushing the button again, the lights came on, revealing Mrs. Jones, who had tiptoed in from the dining-room when Millie told her Bill was there. When he saw her he came out from behind the desk and she hurried toward him with outstretched arms.

"Are you all right, Bill?" she asked, tenderly. And Bill, smiling, leaned over her and breathed so that she could see that he was all right. But she had been through so much lately and where Bill was concerned there was more tenderness than humor in her attitude.

"Aren't you all tired out, dear?" she asked.

Bill grinned sheepishly. It was a long time since his wife had shown such affection for him. "No," was his quick reply.

But her conscience bade her make sure that he was comfortable. She drew a big arm-chair from the corner and placed it in the center of the room, taking a pillow from the sofa and putting it on the back of the chair. Gently she sat Bill down in it.

He didn't know what to make of it all and he looked up at her, asking, with a chuckle:

"What's the matter, mother, you sick?"

She laughed. "No, Bill, I ain't sick. I'm just thinkin'."

Bill looked straight ahead of him.

She took her rocking-chair and placed it next to him. Clasping one of his hands, she leaned forward.

"You've forgiven me, 'ain't you, Bill?"

"Yep," chirped Bill, without so much as a glance.

Her attempt to make love to Bill was not meeting with the success she had hoped, but she was bound to make up to him for all the sorrow of the last few months, and so she did not notice his apparent indifference.

"Just think," she exclaimed, enthusiastically, "the place is ours again!"

"You mean it's yours again," said Bill, slowly.

"No," She shook her head emphatically. "Ours, after this, Bill."

"All right," Bill replied, again not moving.

Mrs. Jones, seeing that her attempts to be affectionate were falling upon unfertile ground, dropped his hand.

"How did Mr. Marvin manage to get it away from them?" she asked.

For the first time Bill took interest.

"I fixed it," he said, sitting up straight in his chair. "Do you want me to tell you how much money you get out of the waterfall?"

"Yes, Bill. But please say we get it."

"You mean I get half of it?"

Mrs. Jones nodded.

"And you're going to keep it for me?" he went on.

She smiled at him and nodded again.

"How did you know about my getting the place back?" he asked.

"Lem Townsend told me," she informed him. "Did you know that he and Mrs. Davis were married to-day?"

Bill didn't know it, but he didn't intend that his wife should know this. Playing up to form, he smiled indulgently upon her as he stated, glibly, "Yes, I fixed it!"

They smiled wisely upon each other and Mrs. Jones once again took her husband's hand.

"We won't have any more divorce people here, will we, Bill?"

"Then you will have to close up," was his answer.

"I want to close up, Bill." Her voice was full of deep tenderness. "I want to have a home again."

"All right," Bill said, getting up from the chair. Display of affection always embarrassed him. His attitude amused and at the same time hurt Mrs. Jones, so she changed her subject to one that she felt might interest him.

"We are all going to have some supper soon, Bill. I have been cooking it," she said.

Bill patted her tenderly on the hand. "Mother, I found out one thing when I was at the Home. I found that you were a good cook."

She smiled happily, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Bill looked at her a moment in surprise; then he laughed.

A shadow crossed her face and she gazed into his eyes. "You don't mind my doing that, do you, Bill?" she asked.

There was a pause for a moment. Bill shifted awkwardly from side to side as he stood up.

"No, I guess I don't," he said.

Mrs. Jones walked toward the dining-room, pausing half-way across the room.

"Bill," she said, glancing down at the floor, "would you kiss me?"

Bill gaped at her in surprise.

"Yes," he said, slowly walking to her. Mrs. Jones saw his hesitation, and, realizing the humor of the situation, laughed heartily.

"Oh, never mind, Bill! You can kiss me later."

"Now, mother, I was going to." He grinned and followed her to the door, but she was through it before he could reach her. He stood still and was about to reopen the door when Marvin burst in, out of breath, but a new radiance in his eyes.

"Why, John," Bill remarked, "I thought you were going over to the cabin!"

"Well, I was," said Marvin. "But I heard about Lem and Mrs. Davis being married, and I knew that everybody would be over there having a good time. I didn't mean to be out of it. Where's your wife?"

"Oh, she's all right. She's cooking supper," Bill replied.

Marvin hesitated a moment. He went to a window and looked out; then he came back, putting his arm through Bill's.

"Is Millie—?"

He could get no farther, for Bill interrupted him.

"Oh yes, she's waiting for you. She's afraid you're not going to forgive her."

"Well, I think I can convince her of my forgiveness," said Marvin.

Delving into his pocket Bill brought forth the ring.

"When you see her just give her this," he said.

Marvin smiled. "Now I know why you borrowed that two dollars this afternoon!"

"Sure! You can find her. She's around some place. After you give it to her come in to the party."

"What party?"

Bill nodded toward the dining-room door. "Lem and his wife are giving a party and we want you to come. But you can't come until you get Millie," said Bill.

Marvin turned and walked toward the stairs, wondering where Millie was. His thought brought his wish, for she parted the curtains and came slowly down. She stopped when she saw him, but there was a look in his eyes that she could not mistake and her heart was beating as it had not done for many months, ever since she and Marvin had walked on the shores of Lake Tahoe many months ago.

"Daddy has told you what I should say to you, hasn't he?" she asked, coming slowly down the stairs. Marvin went half-way up.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Well, I have made a fool of myself and I am ashamed of myself and I beg you to forgive me!"

Pausing on the stairs, she lowered her eyes, coloring deeply. Marvin could not help laughing, and there was a dimple of amusement in Millie's cheek. He put an arm around her and led her down into the lobby.

"I could tell you something better than that to say," he stated, seeing that her eyes were at last answering his, "you might say, for example, 'John, dearest, I know that you love me always,' because that is something a woman must know!"

They both laughed delightedly at this repetition of the words he had used in the court-room.

"And I suppose I should say"—but here Millie turned her head away—"please marry me!"

"Exactly!" Marvin cried. "And my answer is, Yes, Millie—if you will have me!"

Suddenly he remembered the horrible ring Bill had bought. He took it from his pocket, saying, with mock tenderness, "Millie, I want to show you something, and—"

"I have seen it!" she interrupted, laughing softly, glancing down at the object in its gaudy setting.

"Well, we mustn't disappoint Lightnin'," said Marvin. "Put it on your finger, dear, for the old fellow's sake and let him see it. It will show him that his efforts were not in vain—no ring could be more beautiful in thought than this one!"

"You're right, John!" she said, with shining eyes, as she slipped the thing on her finger and raised her face for a kiss.

At that psychological moment Bill stuck his head in the door. He withdrew, of course, but only to return in an instant with the whole party at his heels.

Bill was leading his wife by the hand. Gesturing toward Marvin and Millie, his shrewd old eyes fairly snapping with whimsical happiness, Lightnin' exclaimed:

"Mother—look! I fixed that!"

THE END