At that instant Della May appeared, carrying a plate covered with a high tin basin. "Mis' Bromley," she said, "here's Lois' cream cake, she left it on the front stoop."

Mrs. Bromley's eyes flashed. She turned deliberately away, and said slowly, "Sary, you can take that an' give it to the chickens. I've got a cream cake of my own, an' I'll risk it.”

Sarah took the cake from Della May and disappeared with it into the shed, but she was back in a moment, and Della May hastened back to the parlor.

"Well, this coffee's done, 'n everything's ready to pass," Mrs. Bromley said, "we may as well go in after 'em." The three went into the parlor, and Mrs. Bromley coughed loudly to attract attention, and then said ceremoniously, "Naow if you young ladies and gentlemen will walk out to the settin'-room we'll have our refreshments."

There was a moment's hesitation. "Who'll lead out?" some one asked in an anxious whisper. Miranda heard, and she pushed Dave and Sarah ahead. "They belong here more'n any one else," she said.

Della May played "Grant's March" again, and Calvin hung over the organ while the rest of the company marched out in couples. They seated themselves in the chairs arranged along the side of the room, and Mrs. Bromley began passing plates. Sarah and Miranda followed with coffee, raised biscuit, and sandwiches, and the feast was begun. There was a choice of pressed chicken, tongue, boiled ham, and veal loaf, and the men made a point of taking them all.

"I thought you'd like a relish with your meat," Mrs. Bromley explained, "so I opened some chow-chow and sweet pickle and stuffed peppers. These cucumber pickles you brought are real nice. Yours, ain't they, Addie ?"

Addie assented, and then remarked to her escort archly, "You needn't eat any- you're sour enough already." General laughter followed this bit of repartee, and Horace threw half a biscuit at Bert to emphasize it.

There were nine kinds of cake, and each girl recognized her own and spoke disparagingly of it. Miranda offered hers with the conventional remark, Take some-'tain't so poor as it looks."

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When the others had finished, Mrs. Bromley and her two assistants ate, and the girls waited on them assiduously.

"Now Mis' Bromley," said Addie politely, "can't two or three of us take hold and wash up these dishes for you?"

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"O no," responded Mrs. Bromley, "Sary 'n me'll tend to them-there ain't many. You go in the parlor an' enjoy yourselves."

In the parlor they seated themselves primly. Mrs. Bromley came in and sat stiffly in a straight backed chair.

"Naow can't we have a little entertainment ?" she said. Everybody disclaimed any accomplishment, but finally Miranda recited "The Legend of Bregenz", and then, under protest, gave "The Leak in the Dyke". Della May played "The Shepherd Boy" and "The Mocking Bird", and Miss Munn sang quaveringly, "Darling, I am growing old" and "By the Sad Sea Waves", to which Miranda sang a persistent alto.

"Now let's sing somethin' we can all sing," Miranda suggested. and Ruby called out eagerly, "Yes, let's sing 'Where is my wandering" she clapped her hands over her mouth and fled to a corner. "Le's sing Home, Sweet Home"", said Sarah, and they wailed it through to Della May's lagging accompaniment.

During the last stanza Miranda winked and nodded significantly, and when it was over she stood up. "Well, Mis Bromley," she said, "I guess it's time we were goin', it's gettin' late." "Why, Randy," Mrs. Bromley protested, "It isn't a minute after half-past one-it's right in the shanks of the evenin'." "Well, we must be gettin' home," Miranda replied. "The boys'll have to be out rakin' early in the mornin'."

The girls filed upstairs and returned with their shawls, and the men claimed their partners as they appeared.

Dave and Sarah held a whispered conference in the sittingroom. "I don't mind walkin' home," he said, "I can cut crosslots, an' I haven't hardly caught sight of you to-night."

"No," said Sarah firmly, "you must go along with the rest. I don't want these dishes hangin' around to-morrow mornin', an' besides, I think mebbe I'd better be alone with her."

"Come on, Dave," some one shouted, "you begun sayin' good-night an hour ago."

They trooped out on the piazza, and Miranda was there waiting for Ethan. "Course you'n Marilly'll ride in the hay wagon. with us," she said.

They settled themselves in the carriages and the hay wagon,

shouted good-night to Mrs. Bromley and Sarah, and then they started off, singing "Forty-nine blue bottles".

Mrs. Bromley shut the door, locked and bolted it, and then went up stairs to put out the lights. Sarah went to the kitchen, enveloped herself in an apron, and washed dishes vigorously. Mrs. Bromley stopped in the parlor, shut the organ, put the chairs in their places, straightened the tidies, and rearranged the stereopticon pictures. She brought the chairs back to the sitting-room and sat down to rest. Sarah came in and leaned against the door.

"Mis'

"I'm waitin' fer more water to heat," she explained. Bromley," she said, "I hope you won't live to regret nothin' you've done to-night," she said, solemnly.

"If you mean keepin' that Harrin'ton girl out, I don't think I shall, an' I don't care to talk abaout it."

"Well, I shouldn't think you'd want to turn your own son out, fer good 'n all, an' he the only one you've got," persisted Sarah.

"I told Warren time 'n time again that Lois Harrin❜ton shouldn't never enter my house, an' he could know what to expect if he ever married her."

"P'raps he wouldn't a married her if you hadn't done so," said Sarah. "He couldn't very well do anythin' else, as 'twas. He couldn't just let her go off home alone. First place, Mis Bromley, I don't see why you're so set against Lois. She ain't so smart as Randy Austin, but she's a good worker, and I think she's got faculty. Everybody knows she's just kep' the fam❜ly goin', with her mother never out o' bed from one week's end to the other."

"That's just it," Mrs. Bromley flashed. "Jim Harrin❜ton's a shiftless critter, 'n his wife's the most downright lazy woman in Rockshire County. Any woman that'll pretend to be sick to get out o' workin'!"

"I guess I'll go see to that water," said Sarah.

Mrs. Bromley sat and looked fixedly at the picture of Lincoln and his cabinet. A few minutes later Sarah came in.

"Them dishes take more water'n I can keep het," she said. "Well, I dunno, but it seems to me its pretty hard that Warren should be gettin' married at the White Crick Hotel, while they's a party goin' on at his own home."

"Then he needn't a married into such a tribe," Mrs. Bromley

responded. "I ain't one fer takin' on, but I'd about as soon see him dead as married to a Harrin'ton," and Mrs. Bromley stopped suddenly.

"Well," said Sarah meditatively, "I doubt if Lois would come here, anyway. 'Course Fanny an' Rose could do the work all right, but they say Mis' Harrin'ton won't have any one but Lois wait on her. So like as not she wouldn't leave her. Course Lois' father'll be glad enough to take 'em in; it'll mean a lot to him to have a smart fellow like Warren on the place. Dave was tellin' me that Judge Elwell holds a second mortgage on it now. It'll be sorter up hill work for Warren, though."

Sarah went back to the kitchen, and Mrs. Bromley picked up the copy of the Youth's Companion that lay on the table. Warren had taken it since he was eight years old. When it came that day she had told him that it seemed foolish for a great boy of nineteen to take a child's paper, but he had said that he liked the stories, and that there was real good reading in the back. She smiled grimly, put the Youth's Companion in the table drawer, and took up the Christian Union.

Sarah appeared with the dustpan and turkey wing and began sweeping up the crumbs from the carpet.

in their parMy! I hope

"Look's if they wasted more'n they et," she said severely. "I guess Warren'll miss his home," she said. "They say the Harrin'❜tons ain't got a carpet in their house, 'cept lor, only some rag rugs Lois has braided off 'n on. wherever he is he'll get his custard pie-did you ever see such a hand for custard pie, Mis' Bromley?"

"I guess he could be thankful if he got his pork 'n potatoes

at Jim Harrin'ton's," Mrs. Bromley rejoined.

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"I was awful sorry you said that 'bout Lois' cake 'fore Della May," Sarah continued. Her tongue runs faster 'n a horse can trot, an' there'll be enough talk about this anyway. I sh'ld think fer the speech o' people you'd make up with 'em right off. This party'll be a nine days' wonder, but it'll blow over, an' that'll be the end of it, an' what's the use o' waitin' till Warren has the typhoid, or another spell of asthma ?"

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*

Well, I got some pride," Mrs. Bromley began. "Course, an' I should think you'd be too proud to have your own son doin' day labor on Jim Harrin'ton's farm. Fust place, Mis' Bromley, I sh'ld think you'd about as soon have your property go to the Harrin'tons, as the Hartsboro Bromleys.

Jim

Harrin'ton's shiftless, but he ain't a mean man, an' everybody knows that Henry J. Bromley's a hard drinker. Landy! It's quarter past two! I must rense them wipers an' go to bed.

When she had left the room Mrs. Bromley rose and opened the door of one of the cupboards over the fireplace. She took out a tin box, and unfolded a yellow paper. Her eyes fell on the words "to my beloved son, Warren Ezra," and she glanced at the photograph at the bottom of the box. It was Warren, on his ninth birthday. He wore a cutaway jacket, trousers that came four inches below his knees, and a round, flat felt hat.

Mrs. Bromley hastily pushed the box back into the cupboard and shut the door. Sarah came through with a lamp, and started up the narrow back stairs. When the staircase door closed behind her Mrs. Bromley turned around sharply.

"Sary!" she called. Sarah opened the door and put her head through.

"Sary," said Mrs. Bromley, "don't sleep any longer'n you haf to in the mornin'. Mebbe I'll clean the spare room."

LAURA MARY ROGERS.

A BOARDING SCHOOL freshMAN

The dining-room was almost empty, and the maid had locked the door against all late-comers. At some of the tables were a few lingerers, but almost everyone had sauntered out to dance in the "Gym" or had retired to the realms of study. At one of the tables in the little dining-room an argument more or less heated was going on. The girls had come in late from a freshman tea, and after a discussion of its merits and demerits they had taken up for consideration certain freshmen who had been present.

"Personally, I have no use for a girl who has prepared at a boarding school," said Miss Bailey decidedly.

"Why not, Miss Bailey?" asked Madge Atherton innocently. "Why not, Miss Atherton ?" she reiterated, "because I have yet to see the boarding school girl who makes a scholar. She has never learned to study. She has false conceptions of what education means; just a smattering of this and a smattering of that, most of it useless from the start. No wonder men make