house. She makes me feel as if I
were an undertaker, a grave digger, and a cemetery, all rolled into one."

"You're too imaginative," said Harlan, tenderly, stroking her soft cheek.
He had not yet seen Mrs. Smithers.

"Perhaps," Dorothy admitted, "when she gets that pyramid of crape off her
head, she'll seem more nearly human. Do you suppose she expects to wear it
in the house all the time?"

"Miss Carr!"

The gaunt black shadow appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and the
high, harsh voice shrilled imperiously across the yard.

"I'm coming," answered Dorothy, submissively, for in the tone there was
that which instinctively impels obedience. "What is it?" she asked, when
she entered the kitchen.

"Nothink. I only wants to know wot it is you're layin' out to 'ave for
your--luncheon, if that's wot you call it."

"Poached eggs on toast, last night's cold potatoes warmed over, hot
biscuits, jam, and tea."

Mrs. Smithers's articulate response resembled a cluck more closely than
anything else.

"You can make biscuits, can't you?" went on Dorothy, hastily.

"I 'ave," responded Mrs. Smithers, dryly. "Begging your parding, Miss, but
is that there feller sawin' wood out by the chicken coop your 'usband?"

"The gentleman in the yard," said Dorothy, icily, "is Mr. Carr."

"Be n't you married to 'im?" cried Mrs. Smithers, dropping a fork. "I
understood as 'ow you was, else I wouldn't 'ave come. I was never one
to----"

"I most assuredly _am_ married to him," answered Dorothy, with due
emphasis on the verb.

"Oh! 'E's the build of my youngest sister's poor dead 'usband; the one wot
broke the tea set wot I give 'er over 'er poor 'ed. 'E can 'it powerful
'ard, can't 'e?"

Quite beyond speech, Dorothy went outdoors again, her head held high and a
dangerous light in her eyes. To-morrow, or next week at the latest, should
witness the forced departure of Mrs. Smithers. Mrs. Carr realised that the
woman did not intend to be impertinent, and that the social forms of
Judson Centre were not those of New York. Still, some things were
unbearable.

The luncheon that was set before them, however, went far toward atonement.
With the best intentions in the world, Dorothy's cooking nearly always
went wide of the mark, and Harlan welcomed the change with unmistakable
pleasure.

"I say, Dorothy," he whispered, as they rose from the table; "get on with
her if you can. Anybody who can make such biscuits as these will go out of
th