ss candlesticks on the mantel, a red-beaded
mat on the table under the lamp, the lamp itself clear glass and
filled with red kerosene that happily repeated the tint of the mat. It
all pleased Annie, touching some hitherto untwanged chord of beauty in
her nature. And there was about it the unmistakable atmosphere of
home.

"Old-fashioned but sort of swell, too," she decided. "Looks kind of
like some of the parlours of those old houses on Charles Street that I
used to rubber into in the evenings when the lights were lit and
they'd forgot to put the blinds down."

She liked the impassive almost Egyptian face of Aunt Dolcey, too. The
old coloured woman had received her with a serious regard but
friendly.

"Mist' Wes, he stahtle me mighty frequen', but he nevah stahtle me
with no marryin' befo'," she said. "Honey, it'll be mighty nice to
have a pret' young gal in de house. I'll serve you de bes' I kin,
faithful an' stiddy, like I always serve him. Ef I'd 'a' known you was
a-comin' I'd sho' had somethin' fo' dinneh to-day besides greens an'
po'k, cracklin' pone an' apple dumplin's. That's nuffin' fo' a weddin'
dinneh."

But when they came to eat it, it was delicious--the greens delicately
seasoned, not greasy, the salt pork home-cured and sweet, the
cracklin' pone crumbling with richness, and the apple dumpling a
delight of spicy flavour.

They sat opposite each other, in as matter-of-fact fashion as if they
had been married for years. They were young and exceedingly hungry,
and hunger destroys self-consciousness.

The china was very old--white plates with a curving pattern of blue
leaves and yellow berries. The knives and forks were polished steel
with horn handles. The spoons were silver; old handmade rat-tail
spoons they were, with the mark of the smith's mallet still upon them
and the initials W.D. cut in uneven letters.

"Those were my great-granddad's," said Wesley. "Same name as mine. He
had 'em made out of silver money by a man down in Frederick. They must
be nearly a hundred years old. My great-granddad, he was the man that
bought this land and began to clear it. He wanted to be away off from
everybody."

"Why?" asked Annie, interested in the story.

The vein on Wesley's forehead seemed to grow larger and darker as he
answered:

"Oh, he got into trouble--knocked a man down, and the fellow struck
his head on a stone and died. It didn't come to trial--it really was
an accident--but it didn't make grandda