rned around
once upon his heel.--"I entirely forgot about that."

"What's to be done?" said I, almost crying with vexation. "I've
nothing for dinner but fried ham and eggs."

"The best we can do is the best," returned Mr. Smith. "You can give
Mr. Jones a hearty welcome, and that will compensate for any defects
in the dinner. I forewarned him that we should not entertain him
very sumptuously."

"You'd better tell him the whole truth at once," said I, in answer
to this; "and then take him to an eating house."

But my good husband would hear to nothing of this. He had invited
his old friend to dine with him; and dine he must, if it was only on
a piece of dry bread.

"Pick up something. Do the best you can," he returned. "We can wait
for half an hour."

"I've nothing in the house, I tell you," was my answer made in no
very pleasant tones; for I felt very much irritated and outraged by
my husband's thoughtless conduct.

"There, there, Jane. Don't get excited about the matter," said he
soothingly. But his words were not like oil to the troubled waters
of my spirit.

"I am excited," was my response. "How can I help being so? It is too
much! You should have had more consideration."

But, talking was of no use. Mr. Jones was in the parlor, and had
come to take a family dinner with us. So, nothing was left but to
put a good face on the matter; or, at least, to try and do so.

"Dinner's on the table now," said I. "All is there that we can have
to-day. So just invite your friend to the dining room, where you
will find me."

So saying, I took a little fellow by the hand, who always eat with
us, and led him away, feeling, as my lady readers will very
naturally suppose, in not the most amiable humor in the world. I had
just got the child, who was pretty hungry, seated in his high chair,
when my husband and his guest made their appearance; and I was
introduced.

Sorry am I to chronicle the fact--but truth compels me to make a
faithful record--that my reception of the stranger was by no means
gracious. I tried to smile; but a smile was such a mockery of my
real feelings, that every facial muscle refused to play the
hypocrite. The man was not welcome, and it was impossible for me to
conceal this.

"A plain family dinner, you see," said Mr. Smith, as we took our
places at the meagre board. "We are plain people. Shall I help you
to some of the ham and eggs?"

He tried to smile pleasantly, and to seem very much at his e