"You didn't listen. Even you couldn't mistake one for the other, but
I've scored off you. Helen, we shall want a good tea. I drove up with
Zebedee, and he's coming here when he's finished with old Halkett."

She stood with a cooling iron in her hand. "I'll make some scones. I
expect Eliza gives him horrid food. And for supper there's cold chicken
and salad and plenty of pudding; but how shall we put up the horse?"

"Don't worry, Martha. He's only coming to tea. He won't stay long."

"Oh, yes, he will." She had no doubt of it. "I want him to. Make up the
fire for me, Daniel, please." She folded away the ironing cloth and
gathered up the little damp cuffs and collars she had not ironed. A
faint smile curved her steady lips, for nothing gave her more happiness
than serving those who had a claim on her, and Zebedee's claim was his
lack of womankind to care for him and her own gratitude for his
existence. He was the one person to whom she could give the name of
friend, yet their communion had seldom expressed itself in confidences:
the knowledge of it lay snugly and unspoken in her heart.

"He has never had anything to eat in this house before," she said with
a solemnity which provoked Rupert to laughter.

"What a sacrament women make of meals!"

"I wish they all did," Daniel said in the bass notes of genuine feeling.

"I don't know why you keep that awful woman," Helen said.

"Don't start him on Eliza," Rupert begged. "Eliza and the intricacies of
English law--"

"Have you seen her?" Daniel persisted.

"No, but of course she's awful if she doesn't give you proper food."

His look proclaimed his realization that he had never appreciated Helen
before. "I'm not greedy," he said earnestly, "but I've got to be fed."
He sent a wavering glance from his chest to his boots. "Bulk is what I
need, and fat foods, and it's a continuous fight to get them."

Rupert roared aloud, but there was sympathy in Helen's hidden mirth.
"I'll see what I can do for you today," she said, like an attentive
landlady. "And you are going to stay the night. I fry bacon--oh,
wonderfully, and you shall have some for breakfast. But now," she added,
with a little air of dismissal, "I am going to make the scones."

"Let's have a walk," Rupert said.

"I've walked enough." He had an impulse to stay with Helen.

"Then come outside and smoke. It's as warm as June."

Daniel rose slowly, lifting his body piece by piece. "I shouldn't like
you to thin