the last cat."

Hepsey, half frightened, put her head into the room. "Dinner's ready,"
she shouted, hurriedly shutting the door.

"Give me your arm, James," said Mrs. Ball, and Ruth followed them into
the dining-room.

The retired sailor ate heartily, casting occasional admiring glances
at Ruth and Hepsey. It was the innocent approval which age bestows upon
youth. "These be the finest biscuit," he said, "that I've had for many a
day. I reckon you made 'em, didn't you, young woman?"

"Yes, sir," replied Hepsey, twisting her apron.

The bride was touched in a vulnerable spot.

"Hepsey," she said, decisively, "when your week is up, you will no
longer be in my service. I am a-goin'to make a change."

Mr. Ball's knife dropped with a sharp clatter. "Why, Mis' Ball," he
said, reproachfully, "who air you goin' to hev to do your work?"

"Don't let that trouble you, James," she answered, serenely, "the
washin' can be put out to the Widder Pendleton, her as was Elmiry
Peavey, and the rest ain't no particular trouble."

"Aunty," said Ruth, "now that you've come home and everything is going
on nicely, I think I'd better go back to the city. You see, if I stay
here, I'll be interrupting the honeymoon."

"No, no, Niece Ruth!" exclaimed Mr. Ball, "you ain't interruptin' no
honeymoon. It's a great pleasure to your aunt and me to hev you here--we
likes pretty young things around us, and as long as we hev a home,
you're welcome to stay in it; ain't she Jane?"

"She has sense enough to see, James, that she is interruptin' the
honeymoon," replied Aunt Jane, somewhat harshly. "On account of her
mother havin' been a Hathaway before marriage, she knows things. Not
but what you can come some other time, Ruth," she added, with belated
hospitality.

"Thank you, Aunty, I will. I'll stay just a day or two longer, if you
don't mind--just until Mr. Winfield comes back. I don't know just where
to write to him."

"Mr.--who?" demanded Aunt Jane, looking at her narrowly.

"Mr. Carl Winfield," said Ruth, crimsoning--"the man I am going to
marry." The piercing eyes were still fixed upon her.

"Now about the letters, Aunty," she went on, in confusion, "you could
help Uncle James with the book much better than I could. Of course it
would have to be done under your supervision."

Mrs. Ball scrutinized her niece long and carefully. "You appear to be
tellin' the truth," she said. "Who would best print it?"

"I think it would be better for