e; and if anybody'll
look at them Tackies out on the Ridge yonder, and then tell me there's
any health in this neighborhood, then I'll give up. I don't know how in
the wide world we'll fix up for 'em. That everlastin' nigger went and
made too much fire in the stove, and tee-totally ruint my light-bread; I
could 'a' cried, I was so mad; and then on top er that the whole
dinin'-room is tore up from top to bottom."

"Well," said the major, "we'll try and make 'em comfortable, and if they
ain't comfortable it won't be our fault. Jest you whirl in, and put on
some of your Greene County style, Maria. That'll fetch 'em."

"It may fetch 'em, but it won't feed 'em," said the practical Maria.

The result was, that when Helen Eustis and her aunt became the guests of
this poor little country tavern, they were not only agreeably
disappointed as to their surroundings, but they were better pleased than
they would have been at one of the most pretentious caravansaries. Hotel
luxury is comfortable enough to those who make it a point to appreciate
what they pay for; but the appointments of luxury can neither impart,
nor compensate for the lack of, the atmosphere that mysteriously conveys
some impression or reminiscence of home. In the case of Helen and her
aunt, this impression was conveyed and confirmed by a quilt of curious
pattern on one of the beds in their rooms.

"My dear," said Miss Tewksbury, after making a critical examination,
"your grandmother had just such a quilt as this. Yes, she had two. I
remember the first one was quite a bone of contention between your
mother and me, and so your grandmother made two. I declare," Miss
Tewksbury continued, with a sigh, "it quite carries me back to old
times."

"It is well made," said Helen, giving the stitches a critical
examination, "and the colors are perfectly matched. Really, this is
something to think about, for it fits none of our theories. Perhaps,
Aunt Harriet, we have accidentally discovered some of our long-lost
relatives. It would be nice and original to substitute a beautiful quilt
for the ordinary strawberry-mark."

"Well, the sight of it is comforting, anyhow," said Miss Tewksbury,
responding to the half-serious humor of her niece by pressing her thin
lips together, and tossing her gray ringlets.

As she spoke, a negro boy, apparently about ten years old, stalked
unceremoniously into the room, balancing a large stone pitcher on his
head. His hands were tucked beneath