raised her thin hand, protesting: "My
son, you should never attempt to talk when you are eating."

Nothing abashed, the boy swallowed hastily and reiterated his statement.
At which Madam Sturtevant exclaimed, with as much excitement of manner
as she ever showed: "Company? Dear Eunice entertaining guests? Why, son,
how did you learn that? Who are they, pray?"

"D-d-didn't say 'g-guests.' She's a g-g-gir-rl. How I learned, I
s-s-saw. With my own eyes. M-m-more chicken, g-gramma."

"Yes, dear heart. It is delicious poultry, and so sweet of Eunice to
remember us. We were always close friends, and she is still a lovely
woman. So fresh and young looking. But then, Eunice never married nor
was widowed, nor exchanged wealth for poverty, nor reared a--a
grandson," concluded the dame, fixing a too thoughtful gaze upon
Montgomery's freckled face, whose only aristocratic feature was a pair
of exceptionally fine eyes. Her mind was already wandering back into
that past which held so much more of interest to this decayed
gentlewoman than the present; but, wriggling under her survey of
himself, the lad reminded her that Miss Maitland had also had her
trials, in that:

"Un-un-uncle Mose s-says she's raised s-s-s-six sev--en other folks'
ch-ch-ch-childern, anyhow."

"Sixty-seven children! My dear, you must certainly have misunderstood.
But no matter. Finish your food at once. Our duty is plain. I dislike
going out, except on Sundays, and especially at evening, yet dear Eunice
would think me most remiss if I delayed to pay my respects to any guest
of hers. I am dressed sufficiently well for an informal visit, but--"
here the old lady put on her glasses and critically regarded her
grandson's attire, then remorselessly continued: "But you, my son, must
take a bath and put on your best suit. As soon as possible; because the
stranger will be tired and wish to retire early. Finished? That is well.
Strike the bell for Alfaretta."

Though his plate was still heaped with the choice portions of the fowl,
which his doting grandmother had preserved for him, and though he was
still hungry, unlucky Monty sank back in his chair, a limp, crestfallen
lad. With his dejected stare fixed upon her unrelenting face, he
stammered forth:

"B-b-but, g-g-gr-gramma! I'm goin' a-f-f-fishin'!"

"Nonsense. Get ready immediately," said Madam, rising from table, and
measuring out the supper portion of Alfaretta, the one small servant of
a house which had onc