laughed and exclaimed, and seemed to find me as entertaining as a
play. Maria was asking me about my own little life and experiences
before I came to Magnolia; what sort of a place Melbourne was, and how
things there differed from the things she and the rest knew and were
accustomed to at the South; and about my old June, who had once been
an acquaintance of hers. Smiling at me the while, between the thrusts
of her curiosity, and over my answers, as if for sheer pleasure she
could not keep grave. The other faces were as interested and as
gracious. There was Pete, tall and very black, and very grave, as
Darry was also. There was Jem, full of life and waggishness, and
bright for any exercise of his wits; and grave shadows used to come
over his changeable face often enough too. There was Margaret, with
her sombre beauty; and old Theresa with her worn old face. I think
there was a certain indescribable reserve of gravity upon them all,
but there was not one whose lips did not part in a white line when
looking at me, nor whose eyes and ears did not watch me with an
interest as benign as it was intent. I had been little while seated
before the kitchen fire of pine knots before I felt that I was in the
midst of a circle of personal friends; and I feel it now, as I look
back and remember them. They would have done much for me, every one.

Meanwhile Maria beat and mixed and stirred the things in her wooden bowl;
and by and by ladled out a glassful of rich-looking, yellow, creamy
froth--I did not know what it was, only it looked beautiful--and
presented it to me.

"Miss Daisy mus' tell Mis' Felissy Maria hain't forgot how to make
it--'spect she hain't, anyhow. Dat's for Miss Daisy's Christmas."

"It's very nice!" I said.

"Reckon it is," was the capable answer.

"Won't you give everybody some, Maria?" For Jem had gone upstairs with
a tray and glasses, and Maria seemed to be resting upon her labours.

"Dere'll come down orders for mo', chile; and 'spose I gives it to de
company, what'll Mis' Lisa do wid Maria? I have de 'sponsibility of
Christmas."

"But you can make some more," I said, holding my glass in waiting.
"Do, Maria."

"'Spose hain't got de 'terials, hey?"

"What do you want? Aunt Gary will give it to you." And I begged Jem to
go up again and prefer my request to her for the new filling of
Maria's bowl. Jem shrugged his shoulders, but he went; and I suppose
he made a good story of it; for he came down with w