the two old friends became,
and of what old stories they reminded each other, and how late the
dark spring evening grew, before the feast was over and the
straight-backed chairs were set against the kitchen wall!

Marilla listened for a time with more or less interest, but at last
she took one of her school-books, with slight ostentation, and went
over to study by the lamp. Mrs. Hender had brought her knitting-work,
a blue woolen stocking, out of a drawer, and sat down serene and
unruffled, prepared to keep awake as late as possible. She was a woman
who had kept her youthful looks through the difficulties of farm life
as few women can, and this added to her guest's sense of homelikeness
and pleasure. There was something that he felt to be sisterly and
comfortable in her strong figure; he even noticed the little plaid
woolen shawl that she wore about her shoulders. Dear, uncomplaining
heart of Abby Hender! The appealing friendliness of the good woman
made no demands except to be allowed to help and to serve everybody
who came in her way.

Now began in good earnest the talk of old times, and what had become
of this and that old schoolmate; how one family had come to want and
another to wealth. The changes and losses and windfalls of good
fortune in that rural neighborhood were made tragedy and comedy by
turns in Abby Hender's dramatic speech. She grew younger and more
entertaining hour by hour, and beguiled the grave Senator into
confidential talk of national affairs. He had much to say, to which
she listened with rare sympathy and intelligence. She astonished him
by her comprehension of difficult questions of the day, and by her
simple good sense. Marilla grew hopelessly sleepy, and departed, but
neither of them turned to notice her as she lingered a moment at the
door to say good-night. When the immediate subjects of conversation
were fully discussed, however, there was an unexpected interval of
silence, and, after making sure that her knitting stitches counted
exactly right, Abby Hender cast a questioning glance at the Senator to
see if he had it in mind to go to bed. She was reluctant to end her
evening so soon, but determined to act the part of considerate
hostess. The guest was as wide awake as ever: eleven o'clock was the
best part of his evening.

"Cider?" he suggested, with an expectant smile, and Abby Hender was on
her feet in a moment. When she had brought a pitcher from the pantry,
he took a candle from t