license to sell anything for
the refreshment of the travelers. But at some distance from the station,
in a two-roomed dwelling-house, a good woman was found who was willing to
cook a meal of victuals, as she explained, and a sign on her front door
attested, she had a right to do. What was at the bottom of the local
prejudice against letting the wayfaring man have anything to eat and
drink, the party could not ascertain, but the defiant air of the woman
revealed the fact that there was such a prejudice. She was a noble,
robust, gigantic specimen of her sex, well formed, strong as an ox, with
a resolute jaw, and she talked, through tightly-closed teeth, in an
aggressive manner. Dinner was ordered, and the party strolled about the
village pending its preparation; but it was not ready when they returned.
"I ain't goin' to cook no victuals," the woman explained, not
ungraciously, "till I know folks is goin' to eat it." Knowledge of the
world had made her justly cautious. She intended to set out a good meal,
and she had the true housewife's desire that it should be eaten, that
there should be enough of it, and that the guests should like it. When
she waited on the table she displayed a pair of arms that would
discourage any approach to familiarity, and disincline a timid person to
ask twice for pie; but in point of fact, as soon as the party became her
bona-fide guests, she was royally hospitable, and only displayed anxiety
lest they should not eat enough.

"I like folks to be up and down and square," she began saying, as she
vigilantly watched the effect of her culinary skill upon the awed little
party. "Yes, I've got a regular hotel license; you bet I have. There's
been folks lawed in this town for sellin' a meal of victuals and not
having one. I ain't goin' to be taken in by anybody. I warn't raised in
New Hampshire to be scared by these Massachusetts folks. No, I hain't
got a girl now. I had one a spell, but I'd rather do my own work. You
never knew what a girl was doin' or would do. After she'd left I found a
broken plate tucked into the ash-barrel. Sho! you can't depend on a
girl. Yes, I've got a husband. It's easier to manage him. Well, I tell
you a husband is better than a girl. When you tell him to do anything,
you know it's going to be done. He's always about, never loafin' round;
he can take right hold and wash dishes, and fetch water, and anything."

King went into the kitchen after dinner and saw this model husb