"

"Dillwyn!" said Madge. "I've heard you speak of him."

"Very likely. I saw him once or twice in my New York days."

"And he gave you lunch."

"Mrs. Wishart and me. Yes. And a good lunch it was. That's why I spoke
of pickles, Charity. Do the very best you can."

"I cannot do my best, unless I can cook the chickens," said Charity,
who all this while stood leaning upon her broom. "I might do it for
once."

"Where is your leave to do wrong once?"

"But this is a particular occasion--you may call it a necessity; and
necessity makes an exception."

"What is the necessity, Charity?" said Mrs. Armadale, who until now had
not spoken.

"Why, grandma, you want to treat a stranger well?"

"With whatever I have got to give him. But Sunday time isn't mine to
give."

"But _necessary_ things, grandma?--we may do necessary things?"

"What have you got in the house?"

"Nothing on earth, except a ham to boil. Cold ham,--that's all. Do you
think that's enough?"

"It won't hurt him to dine on cold ham," the old lady said complacently.

"Why don't you cook your chickens and have them cold too?" Lois asked.

"Cold fricassee ain't worth a cent."

"Cook them some other way. Roast them,--or-- Give them to me, and I'll
do them for you! I'll do them, Charity. Then with your nice bread, and
apple sauce, and potatoes, and some of my pears and apples, and a
pumpkin pie, Charity, and coffee,--we shall do very well. Mr. Dillwyn
has made a worse dinner in the course of his wanderings, I'll undertake
to maintain."

"What shall I have for supper?" Charity asked doubtfully. "Supper comes
first."

"Shortcake. And some of your cold ham. And stew up some quinces and
apples together, Cherry. You don't want anything more,--or better."

"Do you think he will understand having a cold dinner, Sunday?" Charity
asked. "Men make so much of hot dinners."

"What does it signify, my dear, whether he understands it or not?" said
Mrs. Armadale. "What we have to do, is what the Lord tells us to do.
That is all you need mind."

"I mind what folks think, though," said Charity. "Mrs. Barclay's friend
especially."

"I do not think he will notice it," said simple Mrs. Armadale.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE VALUE OF MONEY.

There was a little more bustle in the house than usual during the next
two days; and the spare room was no doubt put in very particular order,
with the best of all the house could furnish on the bed and
toilet-table