sugared and creamed, and poured out in silence.

"May I come presently and have some?"

"Haven't you had any?"

"Just enough to make me want more. I never saw such good coffee in my
life."

"You are accustomed to West Point fare."

"It's not that, though. I know a good thing when I see it."

"When you taste it, I suppose," said Diana; preparing his cup, however,
she knew, with extra care.

"I assure you," said Mr. Knowlton expressively, as he stirred it, "I
_have_ appreciation for better things than coffee. I always want the
best, in every kind; and I know the thing when I see it."

"I make no doubt you can have it," said Diana coolly, turning away.

"Hullo, Diany!" said Mr. Carpenter on the other side,--"you're coming
it strong to-day. Got no one to help ye? Sha'n't I fetch 'Lizy? she's
big enough to do som'thin'. I vow I want another cup. You see, it's
hard work, is picking blackberries. I ain't master here; and my wife,
she keeps me hard at it. Can't dewolve the duty on no one, neither; she
sees if I ain't got my pail filled by the time she's got her'n, and I
tell you! I catch it. It makes me sweat, this kind of work; and that
makes me kind o' dry. I'll be obleeged to you for another cup. You
needn't to put no milk into it!"

"It's strong, Mr. Carpenter."

"Want it, I tell you! working under orders this way makes a man feel
kind o' feeble."

"How do you think we women get along, Mr. Carpenter?" said Mrs
Boddington, coming up with her cup.

"How, Mis' Boddington?"

"Yes, I'm asking that. A little more, Diana; it's first-rate, and so's
the corn. It takes you and your mother!--How do you think we women
feel, under orders all the time?"

"Under orders!" said Mr. Carpenter.

"Yes, all the time. How d'you think we feel about it?"

"Must be uncommon powers of reaction," said the farmer. "My wife a'n't
anywheres near killed yet."

"Think any one'll ever get that piece of mantua-making under orders?"
said Mrs. Boddington, looking towards the place where the frills and
rufflings of Miss Masters' drapery stirred in the breeze, with the long
light tresses of her unbound hair. The breeze was partly of her own
making, as she stirred and turned and tossed her head in talking with
Mr. Knowlton; the only one of the company whom she would talk with,
indeed. The farmer took a good look at her.

"Wall," said he,--"_I_ should say it was best to do with that kind of
article what you would do with the steam from y