he tavern were on the point of
enjoying another of the famous meals prepared under the supervision of
Mrs. Haley.

There was nothing in the dining-room to invite the criticism of Helen
and her aunt, even though they had been disposed to be critical; there
was no evidence of slatternly management. Everything was plain, but
neat. The ceiling was high and wide; and the walls were of dainty
whiteness, relieved here and there by bracket-shelves containing shiny
crockery and glassware. The oil-lamps gave a mellow light through the
simple but unique paper shades with which they had been fitted. Above
the table, which extended the length of the room, was suspended a series
of large fans. These fans were connected by a cord, so that when it
became necessary to cool the room, or to drive away the flies, one small
negro, by pulling a string, could set them all in motion.

Over this dining-room Mrs. Haley presided. She sat at the head of the
table, serene, cheerful, and watchful, anticipating the wants of each
and every one who ate at the board. She invited Helen and her aunt to
seats near her own, and somehow managed to convince them, veteran
travelers though they were, that hospitality such as hers was richly
worth paying for.

"I do hope you'll make out to be comfortable in this poor little
neighborhood," she said as the ladies lingered over their tea, after the
other boarders--the clerks and the shopkeepers--had bolted their food
and fare. "I have my hopes, and I have my doubts. Gener'l Garwood says
you're come to mend your health," she continued, regarding the ladies
with the critical eye of one who has had something to do with herbs and
simples; "and I've been tryin' my best to pick out which is the sick
one, but it's a mighty hard matter. Yet I won't go by looks, because if
folks looked bad every time they felt bad, they'd be some mighty peaked
people in this world off and on--William, run and fetch in some hot
batter-cakes."

"I am the alleged invalid," said Helen. "I am the victim of a conspiracy
between my aunt here and our family physician.--Aunt Harriet, what do
you suppose Dr. Buxton would say if he knew how comfortable we are at
this moment? I dare say he would write a letter, and order us off to
some other point."

"My niece," said Miss Tewksbury, by way of explanation, "has weak lungs,
but she has never permitted herself to acknowledge the fact."

"Well, my goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Haley, "if that's all, we'