ver this morning, an' you might get 'em
ready, if you will. We ain't goin' to let you off now, spite of what
you've done for us."

So Mis' Mayor Uppers hung up her shawl and washed the sweet potatoes.
And my kitchen was fragrant with spices and flavourings and an odorous
oven, and there was no end of savoury business to be at. I found myself
glad of the interest of these others in the day and glad of the stirring
in my lonely house. Even if their bustle could not lessen my own
loneliness, it was pleasant, I said to myself, to see them quicken with
interest; and the whole affair entertained my infinite leisure. After
all, I was not required to be thankful. I merely loaned my house, cosey
in its glittering drifts of turkey feathers, and the day was no more and
no less to me than before, though I own that I did feel more than an
amused interest in Calliope's guests. Whom, in Friendship, had she found
"to do for," I detected myself speculating with real interest as in the
dining room, with one and another to help me, I made ready my table. My
prettiest dishes and silver, the Cloth-o'-Gold rose, and my
yellow-shaded candles made little auxiliary welcomes. Whoever Calliope's
guests were, we would do them honour and give them the best we had. And
in the midst of all came from the City the box with my gift of hothouse
fruit and a rosebud for every plate.

"Calliope!" I cried, as I went back to the kitchen, "Calliope, it's
nearly twelve now. Tell us who the guests are, or we won't finish
dinner!"

Calliope laughed and shook her head and opened the door for Mis'
Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss, who entered, followed by her little maid,
both laden with good things.

"I prepared for seven," Mis' Holcomb said. "That was the word you sent
me--but where you got your seven sick an' poor in Friendship beats me.
I'll stay an' help for a while--but to me it all seems like so much
monkey work."

We worked with a will that last half-hour, and the spirit of the kitchen
came upon them all. I watched them, amused and pleased at Mis' Mayor
Uppers's flushed anxiety over the sweet potatoes, at Libbie Liberty
furiously basting the turkey, and at Miss Lucy exclaiming with delight
as she unwrapped the rosebuds from their moss. But I think that Mis'
Holcomb pleased me most, for with the utensils of housewifery in her
hands she seemed utterly to have forgotten that there is no use in
anything at all. This was not wonderful in the presence of such a