id. "May I have another glass and another
doughnut?"

His host's countenance fairly shone with delighted hospitality as he
replenished the empty glass. There were crumbs on the floor when the
visitor left, and flies buzzed about the empty plate and pitcher as Mrs.
Burson and her daughters came up the steps.

"Mr. Anthony's been here," said Erastus cheerfully; "I'm awful sorry you
missed him. We had some cider and doughnuts."

The three women stopped suddenly, and stared at the speaker.

"Why, Paw Burson!" ejaculated the elder daughter, "did you give Mr.
Anthony doughnuts and cider out here on this porch?"

"Why, yes, Millie," apologized the father; "I looked for cookies, but I
couldn't find any. He said he liked doughnuts, and he did seem to relish
'em; he eat several."

"That awful rich man! Why, Paw Burson!"

The young woman gave an awe-stricken glance about her, as if expecting
to discover some lingering traces of wealth.

"Doughnuts!" she repeated helplessly.

"Why, Millie," faltered the father, mildly aggressive, "I don't see why
being rich should take away a man's appetite; I'm sure I hope I'll never
be too rich to like doughnuts and cider."

"Didn't you give him a napkin, paw?" queried the younger girl.

"No," said the father meekly, "he had his handkerchief. I coaxed him to
stay to dinner, but he couldn't; and I asked him to drive out some day
with his wife and daughter--he hasn't but one--they lost a little girl
when she was seven"--

The man's voice quivered on the last word, and died away. Mrs. Burson
went hurriedly into the house. She reappeared at the door in a few
minutes without her bonnet.

"Erastus," she said gently, "will you split me a few sticks of kindling
before you put away the team?"

* * * * *

Mrs. Burson was fitting a salad-green bodice on her elder daughter.
That young woman's efforts to see her own spine, where her mother was
distributing pins with solemn intentness, had dyed her face a somewhat
unnatural red, but the hands that lay upon her downy arms were much
whiter than those that hovered about her back. A dining-table, bearing
the more permanent part of its outfit, was pushed into a corner of the
room, and covered with a yellow mosquito-net, and from the kitchen came
a sound of crockery accompanied by an occasional splash and a scraping
of tin. Now and then the younger girl appeared in the doorway and gazed
in a sort of worshipful ecstas