"Ah, if I could have my eyes to see you meet
Jules Rondeau!"
The front portal of the quaint old Cardigan residence opened, and a
silver-haired lady came out on the porch and hailed Bryce. She was
Mrs. Tully, John Cardigan's old housekeeper, and almost a mother to
Bryce. "Oh, here's my boy!" she cried, and a moment later found
herself encircled by Bryce's arms and saluted with a hearty kiss.
As he stepped into the familiar entrance-hall, Bryce paused, raised
his head and sniffed suspiciously, like a bird-dog. Mrs. Tully, arms
akimbo, watched him pleasurably. "I smell something," he declared,
and advanced a step down the hall for another sniff; then, in exact
imitation of a foxhound, he gave tongue and started for the kitchen.
Mrs. Tully, waddling after, found him "pointing" two hot blackberry
pies which had but a few minutes previous been taken from the oven.
He was baying lugubriously.
"They're wild blackberries, too," Mrs. Tully announced pridefully. "I
remembered how fond you used to be of wild-blackberry pie--so I
phoned up to the logging-camp and had the woods-boss send a man out
to pick them."
"I'm still a pie-hound, Mrs. Tully, and you're still the same dear,
thoughtful soul. I'm so glad now that I had sense enough to think of
you before I turned my footsteps toward the setting sun.
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