remoniously left her kitchen. He might be a minister
brought there to officiate at the church on the following Sabbath,
Sallie surmised; but on second thought she dismissed the idea. He
didn't look like any minister she had ever seen, and was very far
indeed from the Parson Thayer type.

Hercules Thayer's business, including his ministerial duties, had
formed the basis and staple of Sallie's affectionate interest for
seventeen years, and it wasn't her nature to give up that interest, now
that the chief actor had stepped from the stage. So she speculated and
wondered, while she did more than her share of the work.

She picked radishes from the garden for supper, threw white screening
over the imposing loaves of bread still cooling on the side table, and
was sharpening a knife on a whetstone, preparatory to carving thin
slices from a veal loaf that stood near by, when she was accosted by
some one appearing suddenly in the doorway.

"Is this the Red House?" It was a cool, sharp voice, sounding even
more outlandish than Mr. Hand's. Sallie turned deliberately toward the
door and surveyed the new-comer.

"Well, yes; I guess so. But you don't need to scare the daylights
outer me, that way."

The stranger entered the kitchen and pulled out a chair from the table.

"Give me something to eat and drink--the best you have, and be quick
about it, too."

Sallie paused, carving-knife in hand, looking at him with frank
curiosity. "Well, I snum! You ain't the new minister either, now, are
you?"

The stranger made no answer. He had thrown himself into the chair, as
if tired. Suddenly he sat up and looked around alertly, then at
Sallie, who was returning his gaze with interest.

"Where are you from, anyway?" she inquired. "We don't see people like
you around these parts very often."

"I dare say," he snarled. "Are you going to get me a meal, or must I
tramp over these confounded hills all day before I can eat?"

"Oh, I'll get you up a bite, if that's all you want. I never turned
anybody away hungry from this door yet, and we've had many a worse
looking tramp than you. I guess Miss Redmond won't mind."

"Miss Redmond!" The stranger started to his feet, glowering on Sallie.
"Look here! Is this place a hotel, or isn't it?"

"Well, anybody'd think it was, the way I've been driven from pillar to
post for the last ten days! But you can stay; I'll get you a meal, and
a good one, too."

Sallie's good nature was