."

"There's Luella," Caroline suggested, "she's right near here, and
she makes lovely huckleberry bread. Shall I go get her? Old
Gr'--the gentleman that she keeps house for takes his nap now, and
I know she could come."

The look of relief on the girl's face was enough, and Caroline
hurried out, leaving Henry D. Thoreau, who seemed to feel
responsible for his hostess's peace of mind, snuggled in her lap.

She burst into Luella's placid afternoon kitchen, big with her news,
bustling about excitedly, while Luella methodically packed a
market-basket with half a cold chicken, an untouched loaf of
huckleberry bread, a pan of tiny biscuits and a glass of currant
jelly.

"Butter I know they've got, and milk, for I see Wilkins stop up
there this mornin' as I come down, and I wondered who on earth had
taken that God-forsaken little cottage. 'Twasn't occupied last
season. Cryin' right out loud, was she? She must 'a been all tired
out to make such a fuss over a tin o' huckleberry bread. I s'pose
she hasn't got many breakfasts in her life. Ten to one 'twas Myra
Tenny that disappointed her: it sounds like her. Always undertakin'
more 'n any one woman c'd possibly attend to, and then goin' back on
you. Pretty cross himself, was he? Well, they'd had words, most
likely. They take it hard at first. They ain't long married, of
course, if they're young as you say. Poor things. There, I guess
that's about all."

Luella closed the kitchen door softly and they hurried along the
trail.

"He's off as sound as a baby," she confided to Caroline, "sometimes
he'll sleep two hours, he's up so much in the night."

As the relief expedition neared the cottage, Henry D. Thoreau
bounded out to greet them, the girl behind him, still flushed and
swollen-eyed, but with her thick, reddish hair newly braided in a
crown around her head.

"Good afternoon," Luella called cheerily, "I hear you're in trouble
up here! You ought to let me known--I'm the one for jobs like this.
Just let me into the kitchen, Miss----" She paused, but as the girl
made no attempt to help her, continued easily, "well, I should say
so! Got a little burnt, didn't it? Never mind, you ought to a' seen
my first corn-meal muffins! Now you just step out and rest a minute,
dear, and by the time you've called your husband I'll have a little
lunch scratched up and you'll feel so different you won't know
yourself. It's surprisin' how distressed you c'n get on an empty
stomach. 'Tis y