bacon a-fryin', an'
I reckon suppah'll be dished up in no time now."

"Did I understand you to say Uncle Tony was from Lawsonville?"

"Egzactly! Do you know the place?"

"Why, it's my native town," said Dudley.

"Whut!" exclaimed Rogers. "Shake agin, suh," striding over to Dudley,
who also had risen. "Then you're jes' lak my own kin frum this time on.
Frum Lawsonville!" he repeated, a tear on each swarthy cheek as he
grasped the young man's hand.

"Say," he continued eagerly, after a moment's silence, "is the ole
forge whut stood at the crossroads, jes' on the aidge o' the town,
still thar? And the little brown house jes' behind it with the big
mulberry-tree in the yard? That's whar I wuz borned, an' many's the
hoss I've shod at the ole forge.--Tommy." addressing the little boy who
was passing the door of the room, "run to the spring-house branch an'
fotch some mint, an' then a gourd o' watah. We'll celebrate with a
toddy, I reckon, suh," he said to Dudley, as he went to the cupboard
for a glass, sugar, and a demijohn of whiskey. "Tell me, is ole Jeems
Little still livin'? He usetah keep the red tavern in the middle uv the
town. An' say, whut's become o' Si Johnson an' Mack Truman? We wuz boys
together, an' many's the game we've--Good Lawd!" he broke off joyfully
as he mixed the toddy, "I hain't been so happy sence the day I wuz
convarted an' chased the devil outen the persimmon-tree!"

Presently the family and their guest were seated at the supper table
bedecked in all the splendor of the "boughten cloth" and "blue chaney"
dishes, and loaded with corn dodgers, roasted potatoes, bacon, hominy,
pickled cabbage leaves and honey. Just as the others were taking their
places, Henry Rogers entered, and, after bashfully greeting the
stranger, took his place at the table. He was a tall, raw-boned,
sandy-haired lad of seventeen, with stooping shoulders, slouching
figure, big feet and toilworn hands. His large-featured, freckled face
was kept from commonplaceness by its frank gray eyes, broad brow, firm
chin and refined mouth.

"Try an' mek out yer suppah, suh," Mrs. Rogers urged as she handed
Dudley a cup of steaming coffee. "I'm feared thar ain't much fittin' to
eat. Ef we'd knowed in time, we might hev killed a shoat."

"Try some o' this middlin'," chimed in Rogers on the other side,
passing the dish. "Tilt up the plattah an' git some gravy; it's
better'n the meat. Wish 'twuz time fur 'possum. My mouth fa'rly watahs