the closet, took it down, fished
out a pair of slippers from a boot-rack below, and brought them to him.

"I think you had better take off your coat and boots--you will have the
rheumatic fever, or something like it, if you don't. Here are some
things for you to wear while they are drying. And you must be hungry,
too; I will go into the pantry and get you something to eat."

She bustled away, "on hospitable thoughts intent," and the stranger made
the exchange with a quizzical smile playing around his lips. He was a
tall, well-formed man, with a bold but handsome face, sun-burned and
heavily bearded, and looking anything but "delicate," though his blue
eyes glanced out from under a forehead as white as snow. He looked
around the kitchen with a mischievous air, and stretched out his feet
decorated with the defunct Boniface's slippers.

"Upon my word, this is stepping into the old man's shoes with a
vengeance! And what a hearty, good-humored looking woman she is! Kind as
a kitten," and he leaned forward and stroked the cat and her brood, and
then patted old Bose upon the head. The widow, bringing in sundry good
things, looked pleased at his attention to her dumb friends.

"It's a wonder Bose does not growl; he generally does if strangers touch
him. Dear me, how stupid!"

The last remark was neither addressed to the stranger nor to the dog but
to herself She had forgotten that the little stand was not empty, and
there was no room on it for the things she held.

"Oh, I'll manage it," said her guest, gathering up paper, candle,
apples, and spectacles (it was not without a little pang that she saw
them in his hand, for they had been her husband's, and were placed each
night, like the arm-chair, beside her) and depositing them on the
settle.

"Give me the table-cloth, ma'am, I can spread it as well as any woman;
I've learned that along with scores of other things, in my wanderings.
Now let me relieve you of those dishes; they are far too heavy for
those hands"--the widow blushed; "and now please, sit down with me, or I
cannot eat a morsel."

"I had supper long ago, but really I think I can take something more,"
said Mrs. Townsend, drawing her chair nearer to the table.

"Of course you can, my dear lady; in this cold fall weather people ought
to eat twice as much as they do in warm. Let me give you a piece of this
ham, your own curing, I dare say."

"Yes: my poor husband was very fond of it. He used to say that no one