life.

She fried ham and eggs, and made biscuit, and opened a couple of tins of
peaches she had brought, and finally set before them a repast satisfying
if not dainty, and seasoned with a cheerful spirit at least.

"I vum!" she exclaimed, sitting down for the first time in years "at the
first table." "If this don't beat Crawberry and them boarders, I'm crazy
as a loon. Pour the coffee, Sister--and don't be stingy with the milk.
Milk's only five cents a quart here, and it's eight in town. But,
gracious, child! sugar don't cost no less."

Old Lem Camp sat beside Hiram, as he had at the boarding-house table. He
had scarcely spoken since his arrival; but now, under cover of the talk
of Mother Atterson, the driver of the furniture van, and Sister, he
began one of his old-time monologues:

"Old, old--nothing to look forward to--then the prospect opens up--just
like light breaking through the clouds after a storm--let's see; I want
a piece of bread--bread's on Sister's side--I can reach it--hum! no
Crackit to-night--fool jokes--silly fellow--ah! the butter--Where's the
butterknife?--Sister's forgotten the butter-knife--no! here 'tis--That
woman's an angel--nothing less--an angel in a last season's bonnet and a
shabby gown--Hah! practical angels couldn't use wings--they'd be in the
way in the kitchen--ham and eggs--gravy--fit for gods to eat--and not to
worry again where next week's victuals are to come from!"

Hiram noted all the old mail said, and the last phrase enlightened him
immensely as to why Old Lem Camp was so "queer." That was the trouble
on the old man's mind--the trouble that had stifled him, and made him
appear "half cracked" as the boarding-house jester and Peebles had said.

Lem Camp, too old to ever get another job in the city, had for five
years been worrying from day to day about his bare existence. And
evidently he saw that bogie of the superannuated disappearing in the
distance.

After the truck driver had gone to bed, and Camp himself, and Sister had
fallen asleep over the last of the dish-wiping, Mother Atterson confided
in Hiram, to a degree.

"Now, this gal can be made useful. She can help me in the house, and she
can help outside, too.

"She's a poor, unfortunate creature--I know and humbly is no name for
her looks! But mebbe we can send her to the school nearby, and she ought
to get some color in her face if she's out o' doors some--and some flesh
on her skinny body.

"I don't know as I c