ince I went
into mourning. If you don't think it would be disrespectful to him--?"

"I am certain that it would not be so," I assured her, and construed her
doubting silence as capitulation.

So I filled a tray with all the dainties of our little feast, and my
maid carried it to her where she sat, and then to us at table served
dessert. And my strange party went forward with seven guests in my
dining-room and one mourner at supper in my living-room.

"How very, _very_ delicate!" said Mis' Postmaster Sykes, in an emphatic
whisper. "Mis' Fire Chief Merriman is a very superior woman, an' she
always does the delicate thing."

And now as I met Calliope's eyes I saw that the dear little woman was
looking at me with a manner of unmistakable pride. In spite of her
warning to me and what she thought had been its justification during the
supper, here was an occasion to reveal to me a delicacy unequalled.

Thereafter, in deference to my mourning guest in the next room, we all
dropped our voices and talked virtually in whispers. And when at last we
rose from the table, complete silence had come upon us.

Then, the tray not having yet been brought from that other room, I
confess to having found myself somewhat uncertain how to treat a
situation so out of my experience. But the kind heart of my dear Mis'
Amanda Toplady was the dictator.

"Now," she whispered, tip-toeing, "we must all go in an' speak to her.
Poor woman--she don't call anywheres, an' she stays in mournin' so long
folks have kind o' dropped off goin' to see her. Let's walk in an' be
rill nice to her."

Mis' Fire Chief Merriman sat as I had left her, and the tray was before
her on my writing-table. She looked up gravely and greeted them all, one
by one, without rising. We sat about her in a circle and spoke to her
gently on subjects decently allied to her grief: on the coming meeting
of the Cemetery Improvement Sodality; on the new styles in mourning; on
the deaths in Friendship during the winter; and on two cases of typhoid
fever recently developed in the town. (The Fire Chief had died of
"walking typo.") And Mis' Merriman, gravely partaking of strawberry ice
and cake and bonbons, listened and replied and, with the last morsel,
rose to take her leave.

It was then that my unlucky star shone effulgent. For, as she was
shaking hands all round:--

"Oh, Mrs. Merriman," I said, with the gentlest intent, "would you care
to come out to see my dining-room? My Flower