nted to know exactly how Philip's mother made those cakes. She
could not be happy until she succeeded. Here appeared an old trait
of the girl Ruey--almost a fault: settled persistency in
accomplishing her ends, a determination to walk over all obstacles,
however large.

It took much lively stirring about to accomplish it, but the house
was put in order, and Mrs. Thorne reached the depot in time for the
eight o'clock train; the happy Joanna being dismissed to her home for
a week, after carrying her mistress's satchel to the depot. Mrs.
Thorne had visited the old homestead with her husband at the time of
their marriage, and looked forward with real pleasure at the prospect
before her.

"Won't they be surprised, though, to see me coming without Philip,"
and then she smiled to think how she was whizzing along in one
direction, and Philip in another, while he thought her snug at home.
There was a spice of adventure about this going off by herself that
she enjoyed exceedingly.

There is no more delightful place to step into, than the home of two
old people, who are young, and who love you; they have their "hearts
at leisure," can take time to pet you, and are interested in the
smallest details of your lives. Philip's father and mother belonged
to this type; the juices of their natures were not dried up. They
received Ruey with open arms, and followed her about with their eyes,
apparently fearing she would vanish as unexpectedly as she had
appeared--"Philip's wife" caring enough about them to come so far to
see them in the middle of winter, all alone, too--not many
daughters-in-law like that. They hung upon her words, and brought out
the choicest of everything and urged it upon her. At bed-time mother
Thorne came up to "tuck her up," "just as I did Philip twenty years
ago," she said; then the sweet old face bent over Ruey's for a moment
and left a goodnight kiss, and "The Lord bless and keep you, dear
child." Ruey's heart went out to her, and from that hour Philip's
mother was her mother.

Breakfast was all ready the next morning when she came down, and she
sat in Philip's old seat, and the sun looked in at the east window,
and a stray ray fell upon her, and burnished the gold of her hair, so
that she looked more like an angel than ever to those dear old eyes.
How happy they were--Philip's other self in that vacant chair.
Moreover, she ate those famous cakes. It was all true, they were
brown; they were thin and delicate,