at like a boy who has
been allowed to eat at the first table when his father had company. When
Nora asked if he wouldn't take a piece of the "sow's belly," and he
replied, "Thank you, I wouldn't choose any," she still held the dish
before him until he took a slice. He sipped his coffee daintily, as a
girl at an evening tea, holding the cup by the handle, while his little
finger was extended high, and the girl gave him a cup-towel--"so's ther
cup wouldn't burn his fingers" when he was drinking his coffee. He cut
the meat off his chicken bone with his knife and put it into his mouth
with his fork, causing the girl to blush because he was acting so
ridiculous before her Dad and Mam, when she had really expected so much
of him at this crucial time.

Old Peter would take about half his coffee at one gulp--this was
more natural--making a noise like unto a sawmill when it is thoroughly
busy. Then he would wipe his mouth on his shirt sleeve and take the
coffee off his mustache with a sizzing noise. The climax to this
long-to-be-remembered meal came when Wade put his knife and fork in his
plate and picked up the scraps of bread and chicken bones and put them
carefully alongside the knife and fork. Being unable to understand such
strange conduct, Nora stepped behind Jack and hid her face in a dish
towel. We do not know just what she was doing behind the towel, but
presume she "stole a sweet smile," as her face was very red when she
finally came out of hiding.

They got through the meal, however, after a great length of time had
elapsed, for they conversed about every thing, crops especially and
folks in the city in general. Tom was off toward the village purchasing
supplies and would not return, likely, until late in the afternoon, so
Wade must content himself with listening to Peter Judson for at least a
half-day. This he did, and he listened with growing interest. The old
man knew of things that had happened away back yonder 'afore the war,
and he knew about things that would happen at some future date. He had
lived through one generation of feuds and thought "thar mout be tough
times ahead fer some folks as he know'd of now, an' they hain't fer
away, nuther," he said meaningly. "Why, jest let me tell you somethin',
Wade," said old Peter, bending over and shaking his finger at the
latter. "Way back yonder somewhar in the eighteens we had some mouty lot
of trouble, that we did. Them was ther days when ther white caps or
someth