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Well he knew that since the suffering three-year-old twin son of the Kelceys had spent the night in his pitiful arms and in the morning taken a turn for the better, the entire Kelcey family would have made martyrs of themselves for his sake. It was quite true that that sort of thing, as his sister, Mrs. Breckenridge, had intimated, was not precisely in accordance with the prescription of Dr.
Kelcey's hair just behind her ear, to the high polish of her husband's boots, the Kelceys were brave and fine. Mrs. Murdison, though soberly gowned in slate-coloured worsted, wore a white muslin kerchief which gave her the air of a plump and comfortable Mother Superior. Mr.
Bruce Brainard, distinguished specialist. But if that night had been his last, Donald Brown could not have spent it in a way more calculated to give him pleasure as he closed his eyes. Surely, since life was still his, the love of the Kelceys was not to be despised. As he dressed for the dinner Brown considered his attire carefully.
This was an after-dinner party, partaking of the 'lavin's," Brown explained. "The real one was over an hour before." "Do tell us about it. Did you enjoy it? Won't you describe your guests?" Mrs. Brainard spoke eagerly. "With pleasure. The Kelceys are my next-door neighbours on the left. Mrs. Kelcey is pure gold in the rough.
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