the coals in the cooking stove, got out the
lunch box, and sitting down she studied it grimly. At last she arose.

"Wonder how it would do to show Mag Sinton a frill or two," she
murmured.

She went to her room, knelt before a big black-walnut chest and hunted
through its contents until she found an old-fashioned cook book. She
tended the fire as she read and presently was in action. She first sawed
an end from a fragrant, juicy, sugar-cured ham and put it to cook.
Then she set a couple of eggs boiling, and after long hesitation began
creaming butter and sugar in a crock. An hour later the odour of the
ham, mingled with some of the richest spices of "happy Araby," in a
combination that could mean nothing save spice cake, crept up to Elnora
so strongly that she lifted her head and sniffed amazedly. She would
have given all her precious money to have gone down and thrown her arms
around her mother's neck, but she did not dare move.

Mrs. Comstock was up early, and without a word handed Elnora the case as
she left the next morning.

"Thank you, mother," said Elnora, and went on her way.

She walked down the road looking straight ahead until she came to the
corner, where she usually entered the swamp. She paused, glanced that
way and smiled. Then she turned and looked back. There was no one coming
in any direction. She followed the road until well around the corner,
then she stopped and sat on a grassy spot, laid her books beside her and
opened the lunch box. Last night's odours had in a measure prepared her
for what she would see, but not quite. She scarcely could believe her
senses. Half the bread compartment was filled with dainty sandwiches of
bread and butter sprinkled with the yolk of egg and the remainder with
three large slices of the most fragrant spice cake imaginable. The meat
dish contained shaved cold ham, of which she knew the quality, the
salad was tomatoes and celery, and the cup held preserved pear, clear as
amber. There was milk in the bottle, two tissue-wrapped cucumber pickles
in the folding drinking-cup, and a fresh napkin in the ring. No lunch
was ever daintier or more palatable; of that Elnora was perfectly sure.
And her mother had prepared it for her! "She does love me!" cried the
happy girl. "Sure as you're born she loves me; only she hasn't found it
out yet!"

She touched the papers daintily, and smiled at the box as if it were a
living thing. As she began closing it a breath of air swept by,