ther
spoke up as quick as a wink. 'I want a little mite of a silver pitcher
for cream,' says she. 'I see one when I was a little girl.' 'You shall
have it,' says the judge; an' 'twa'n't a week afore this set come, all
marked complete. I never see anybody quite so tickled as mother was; an'
father he kinder laughed. He couldn't help it, to think how she got
ahead of him."

"Well," said the visitor again, "it's as handsome as ever I see." She
got slowly on her feet. "There! I guess I must be movin' along. We're
goin' up to the street right arter dinner, an' I must have it early.
Don't you want to send?"

"I'd like some molasses."

"Well, we'll drive this way an' call an' git the jug. Come over an' see
us, won't you?"

"Yes, I will. You come again."

When she was gone, Ann, under the suggestion of an early dinner, set
about getting her own. She had some calf's head from the day before, and
she warmed it up with herbs. The kitchen smelled delightfully, and as
she set out the food on her bare table, always scoured white to save the
use of a cloth, she felt the richness of her own comfortable life. She
ate peacefully, sitting there in the sun and watching her shining
silver, and just as she was finishing there came a knock at the door.

"Walk right in," called Ann; but as nobody responded, she got up and
opened the door herself. A young man stood on the broad stone, shabby,
dust-covered, and with a tired face. The face was sullen, too. He looked
as if life had been uncivil to him and he hated it. Ann felt a little
shock, like a quicker heart-beat. It was in some subtle way like the
face of her brother Will, who had died in his reckless youth.

"Gi' me a bite o' suthin' to eat," he said, as if it were a formula he
had often used. "I ain't had a meal for a week."

"Massy sakes! yes," said Ann. "Come right in. Here, you set there, an'
I'll warm it up a mite. I didn't have no potaters to-day,--I was in a
kind of a hurry,--but I guess you can make out with bread."

He took the chair and watched her while she set on the spider again and
warmed her savory dish. Ann filled the kettle at the same time. She
judged that he might like a cup of tea, and told herself she would sit
down and take it with him. But when the food was before him, he
addressed himself to it, tacitly rejecting all her attempts to whip up
conversation.

"You travelin' far?" asked Ann, over her own cup of tea, when she had
skimmed the top of the milk fo