himself, was present, sober and subdued but happy. How it came about
that he had not drunk a drop for several weeks, none but Brown and Mrs.
Lukens could have told. Tim's glance was often upon Brown's face--the
look in his eyes, now and then, reminded Brown of that in the eyes of his
dog Bim when he had earned his master's approval, shy but adoring.

In spite of all there was to eat in that mighty first course of turkey
and stuffing and mashed white potatoes and sirup-browned sweet potatoes,
and every possible accompaniment of gravy and vegetable and relish, not
to mention such coffee as none of them had ever drunk, it all disappeared
with astonishing rapidity down the throats of the guests. How, indeed,
can one mince and play with his food when he and his wife have not in
their lives tasted so many good things all at once, and when both have
been prepared for the feast by many weeks and months--and years--of
living upon boiled potatoes with a bit of salt pork, or even upon bread
and molasses, when times were hard? Brown's neighbours were not of the
very poorest, by any means, but all were thriftily accustomed to
self-denial, and there is no flavour to any dainty like that of having
seldom tasted but of having longed for it all one's life.

When the second course had come and gone--it was composed entirely of
pies, but of such pies!--Brown surprised Mrs. Kelcey by going to a
cupboard and bringing out a final treat unsuspected by her. A great
basket of fruit, oranges and bananas and grapes, flanked by a big bowl of
nuts cunningly set with clusters of raisins, made them all exclaim.
Happily, they had reached the exclaiming stage, no longer afraid of their
host or of one another.

"It's reckless with his money he is, Patsy," whispered Mrs. Kelcey to
her husband. "It'll take a power of it to pay for all o' thim, an'
fruit so dear."

"Whist, he knows what he's about," returned Patrick Kelcey, uninclined to
remonstrate with any man for giving him that unaccustomed and delightful
feeling that his vest buttons must be surreptitiously unloosed or he
would burst them off. He helped himself lavishly as he spoke.

By and by, when all had regretfully declined so much as another
raisin--"Now we must have some music!" cried Brown. "Tim, did you bring
your fiddle?"

Tim Lukens nodded. Carpentry was Tim's vocation, but fiddling was his
avocation and dear delight. He was presently fiddling away, while the
company sat about, complet