set in the big chair by
the cat and let me give you a cup o' tea. Then you can tell Mis'
Brownleigh what's troublin' you. She'll know how to talk to you. I'll
git you some tea right away."

She drew the shrinking girl into the kitchen and ousting the cat from a
patchwork rocker pushed her gently into it. It was characteristic of
Amelia Ellen that she had no thought of ministering to her spiritual
needs herself, but knew her place was to bring physical comfort.

She spoke no word save to the cat, admonishing him to mend his manners
and keep out from under foot, while she hurried to the tea canister, the
bread box, the sugar bowl, and the china closet. Soon a cup of fragrant
tea was set before the unexpected guest, and a bit of delicate toast
browning over the coals, to be buttered and eaten crisp with the tea;
and the cat nestled comfortably at Hazel's feet while she drank the tea
and wiped away the tears.

"You'll think I'm a big baby, Amelia Ellen!" cried Hazel trying to smile
shamedly, "but I'm just so tired of the way things go. You see somebody
I don't a bit like has come up from New York on the evening coach, and
I've run away for a little while. I don't know what made me cry. I never
cry at home, but when I got safely over here a big lump came in my
throat and you looked so nice and kind that I couldn't keep the tears
back."

From that instant Amelia Ellen, toasting fork in hand, watching the
sweet blue eyes and the tear-stained face that resembled a drenched pink
bud after a storm, loved Hazel Radcliffe. Come weal, come woe, Amelia
Ellen was from henceforth her staunch admirer and defendant.

"Never you mind, honey, you just eat your tea an' run in to Mis'
Brownleigh, an' I'll get my hood an' run over to tell your folks you've
come to stay all night over here. Then you'll have a cozy evenin'
readin' while I sew, an' you can sleep late come mornin', and go back
when you're ready. Nobody can't touch you over here. I'm not lettin' in
people by night 'thout I know 'em," and she winked knowingly at the girl
by way of encouragement. Well she knew who the unwelcome stranger from
New York was. She had keen eyes, and had watched the coach from her
well-curtained kitchen window as it came in.

That night Hazel told her invalid friend all about Milton Hamar, and
slept in the pleasant bed that Amelia Ellen had prepared for her, with
sheets of fragrant linen redolent of sweet clover. Her heart was lighter
for the simp