se Mary to care whether
I'm hungry or not and no--"

"But I put the supper up," said Rose Mary, with a little laugh and
catch in her voice. "I couldn't let you be hungry, even if you did
treat me that way."

"Didn't Jennie Rucker come to tell you I couldn't get here to
supper?" asked Everett with what he felt to be a contemptible feint of
defense.

"Yes, she came; but you knew we were going to have company and that I
wanted you to be here. You know Mr. Newsome is the best friend we have
in the world and your staying away meant that you didn't care if he
had been good to us. It hurt me! And the first bowl of lilacs was on
the table; I had been saving them for a surprise for you for two days,
and everything was so good and just as you like it and--" Rose Mary's
voice faltered again and a little tear splashed on the saucer she held
poised in her hand.

"Well," answered Everett, like a sulky boy, "I didn't want any of the
Honorable Gid Newsome's lilacs or waffles or fried chicken, and I
didn't want to see you fix any coffee for him," he ended by blurting
out.

"I didn't--I--that is--you are _horrid_," answered Rose Mary, but she
raised her eyes to his in which smiles waltzed around with tears and
the glint of her white teeth showed through red lips curling with
laugh that was forcing itself over them by way of the dimple in the
corner of her chin. "Anyway, what I have here on the top of the stove
is your waffles and your fried chicken, and these are your lilacs,"
and she drew out a purple spray from her belt and dropped it on the
table beside him. "Sit down and I'll give it all to you right here
while I finish wiping the dishes. Mag was taken with a spell before
supper was over and had to go lie down and I stayed to finish things
while the others went over to the speaking," she added as she began to
bustle about with her usual hospitable concern.

"You are an angel, Rose Mary Alloway," said Everett as he placed
himself on a split-bottom kitchen chair, bestowed his long legs under
the table and drew up as near to Rose Mary and her dish-towel as was
possible to be sure of keeping out of the flirt. "And I--I'm a
brute," he added contritely, though he dared a quick kiss on the bare
arm next and close to him.

"No, you're not--just a boy," answered Rose Mary, as she set his
supper on the table before him. She had poured his coffee, stirred in
the cream and sugar and then laid the spoon decorous and straight in
the sau