will be, I cannot say; but we shall not
starve; and you see what a fire I have coaxed up for you. Take this
chair, Mrs. Caruthers."

The lady sat down and hovered over the fire; and Tom restlessly bustled
in and out. Mr. DilIwyn tended the fire, and Lois kept a little in the
background. Till, after an uncomfortable interval, the hostess came in,
bringing the very simple fare, which was all she had to set before
them. Brown bread, and cheese, and coffee, and a common sort of red
wine; with a bit of cold salted meat, the precise antecedents of which
it was not so easy to divine. The lady by the fire looked on
disdainfully, and Tom hastened to supplement things from their own
stores. Cold game, white bread, and better wine were produced from
somewhere, with hard-boiled eggs and even some fruit. Mrs. Caruthers
sat by the fire and looked on; while Tom brought these articles, one
after another, and Lois arranged the table. Philip watched her
covertly; admired her lithe figure in its neat mountain dress, which he
thought became her charmingly; admired the quiet, delicate tact of her
whole manner and bearing; the grace with which she acted and spoke, as
well as the pretty deftness of her ministrations about the table. She
was taking the part of hostess, and doing it with simple dignity; and
he was very sorry for Tom. Tom, he observed, would not see her when he
could help it. But they had to all gather round the table together and
face each other generally.

"This is improper luxury for the mountains," Dillwyn said.

"Mrs. Caruthers thinks it best to be always provided for occasions.
These small houses, you know, they can't give you any but small fare."

"Small fare is good for you!"

"Good for _you_," said Tom,--"all right; but my--Arabella cannot eat
things if they are _too_ small. That cheese, now!--"

"It is quite passable."

"Where are you going, Philip?"

"Bound for the AEggischhorn, in the first place."

"You are never going up?"

"Why not?" Lois asked, with her bright smile. Tom glanced at her from
under his brows, and grew as dark as a thundercloud. _She_ was
ministering to Tom's wife in the prettiest way; not assuming anything,
and yet acting in a certain sort as mistress of ceremonies. And Mrs.
Caruthers was coming out of her apathy every now and then, and looking
at her in a curious attentive way. I dare say it struck Tom hard. For
he could not but see that to all her natural sweetness Lois had added
no