le,"
answered the Honorable Joseph, with prompt seriousness, "and don't
forget some cheese." He looked up at his old playfellow as she stood
beside him, eager with affectionate hospitality.

"You've no idea what a comfort Marilla's been," she stopped to
whisper. "Always took right hold and helped me when she was a baby.
She's as good as made up already to me for my having no daughter. I
want you to get acquainted with Marilla."

The granddaughter was still awed and anxious about the entertainment
of so distinguished a guest when her grandmother appeared at last in
the pantry.

"I ain't goin' to let you do no such a thing, darlin'," said Abby
Hender, when Marilla spoke of making something that she called "fairy
gems" for tea, after a new and essentially feminine recipe. "You just
let me get supper to-night. The Gen'ral has enough kickshaws to eat;
he wants a good, hearty, old-fashioned supper,--the same country
cooking he remembers when he was a boy. He went so far himself as to
speak of rye drop-cakes, an' there ain't one in a hundred, nowadays,
knows how to make the kind he means. You go an' lay the table just as
we always have it, except you can get out them old big sprigged cups
o' my mother's. Don't put on none o' the parlor cluset things."

Marilla went off crestfallen and demurring. She had a noble desire to
show Mr. Laneway that they knew how to have things as well as
anybody, and was sure that he would consider it more polite to be
asked into the best room, and to sit there alone until tea was ready;
but the illustrious Mr. Laneway was allowed to stay in the kitchen, in
apparent happiness, and to watch the proceedings from beginning to
end. The two old friends talked industriously, but he saw his rye
drop-cakes go into the oven and come out, and his tea made, and his
piece of salt fish broiled and buttered, a broad piece of honeycomb
set on to match some delightful thick slices of brown-crusted loaf
bread, and all the simple feast prepared. There was a sufficient piece
of Abby Hender's best cheese; it must be confessed that there were
also some baked beans, and, as one thing after another appeared, the
Honorable Joseph K. Laneway grew hungrier and hungrier, until he
fairly looked pale with anticipation and delay, and was bidden at that
very moment to draw up his chair and make himself a supper if he
could. What cups of tea, what uncounted rye drop-cakes, went to the
making of that successful supper! How gay