"We have no business to be there," was the solemn reply. "That is too
sacred a scene for inquisitive eyes. We must leave them alone."

"It was the music which done it, sir; I knew it would."

"Not altogether, Mrs. Dempster. Not altogether."

"Ye think the Good Lord had a hand in it, too?"

"Yes, I have no doubt about it."

CHAPTER XXIV

EMPTY HEARS SOMETHING

It was past mid-day, and Douglas was about to leave for home when Mrs.
Dempster detained him.

"Don't go yit, sir," she told him. "Stop an' have a bite with us.
Empty'll feel mighty pleased if ye will. We haven't much for dinner,
but ye'r welcome to what we have, an' we'll eat it right under the
shade of that big apple tree. We ginerally do that on bright Sundays,
fer dear knows we eat often enough in the house."

The widow was greatly pleased when Douglas consented to stay, and at
once roused her son to action.

"Hi, thar, Empty," she called, "wake up an' git a hustle on. I want a
pail of water, an' then ye kin carry out the dishes. I do believe that
boy'd sleep all the time," she grumbled. Nevertheless, she watched him
with motherly pride as he slowly rose from the ground, stretched
himself and looked around.

"Ain't dinner ready yit, ma?" he asked. "I'm most starved t' death."

"No, it ain't, an' it won't be to-day if ye don't hurry. We've special
company fer dinner an' I want ye to behave yerself. If ye do, I'll
give ye an extry piece of strawberry shortcake."

Douglas was greatly amused at the conversation and candour of the
mother and son. They understood each other perfectly, and were not the
least bit abashed at the presence of strangers. There was no polished
veneer about the widow's hospitality. She did not pretend to be what
she was not. She knew that she was poor and was not ashamed of it.
She was perfectly natural, and indulged in no high-flown airs.

But Mrs. Dempster was a good manager, a capable housekeeper and an
excellent cook. The table-cloth she spread upon the grass under the
tree was spotless.

"We used this on our weddin' day," she informed Douglas who was
watching her. "Dear old Parson Winstead married us in the church, an'
then he came over an' had dinner with us. Me an' John had the house
all fixed up, an' some of the neighbours helped with the dinner. My,
them was great days," and she gave a deep sigh as she stood for a
moment looking off across the field. "We was all equal then, jist like
one