the prettiest spread ever was seen at
old Sobrante? Like chicken? Like roast pig? Like hot biscuit and plum
sess? Then go wash your face, and make your folks fix up and come
enjoy yourself. So far as I hear, it's old Pedro holds the cash, and
you might as well try to move the Sierras as him, if he ain't ready to
move. At this present writin' he's set himself guard over that
scalliwag, Ferd, and I ain't envying him his job, I ain't. Hurry up,
there won't be anything but necks and drumsticks left for you
laggards."

Thus admonished and reassured, Wolfgang hurried his family away to
prepare for the feast, and the interruption they had caused to the
proceedings at the horse block effectually relieved Mrs. Trent from an
immediate answer to an awkward question, so she said:

"Come, daughter. I see by Aunt Sally's manner that she wishes the
people would begin to eat. Every pair of hands, that belongs to us,
must help in serving these kind neighbors who have flocked to our aid.
Some of them have forty good miles to ride before they sleep, and they
must be fed first. I'll stand by the head table yonder, and name
them, and do you, for whom they left their business, wait upon them
yourself. That will show them your gratitude, and give them honor
due."

So it was, and to every dish she brought, the little captain added a
graceful word of thanks, which seasoned the food better than even Aunt
Sally's wondrous skill had done; and many an encomium did the child
hear, in return, of that lost father who had made himself so
well-beloved in all that countryside.

When all was over and done, when the last "neighbor" had ridden
homeward, when everybody had had his fill, and more than his fill of
good things, and the rudely constructed tables had been removed from
the wide lawn, came Aunt Sally, beaming with happiness, and glanced
over the scene, till there broke from her lips the wondering
question:

"Can this be the same spot that was so dark and lonely yesterday? I've
had my heartstrings so stretched and tugged at, betwixt joy and
sorrow, that I don't know myself. I--I believe I'm tired! And if I am,
it's about the first time in my life. Well, well! Talking of
Christmas--this little supper we've just give is about equal to forty
Christmases in one. Seem's if."

"Dear, kind, Aunt Sally, how shall I ever thank you for all you've
done for us?" cried Mrs. Trent, appearing at her friend's side, and
impetuously clasping the portly matro