it-brush were placed in a broken
jar on the window-sill, there was a picture worth seeing. Some planks
were laid on the saw-horses, some papers over them, and a clean white
cloth over all. I sorted the dishes myself; the prettiest the house
afforded graced our table. I rubbed the glassware until it shone almost
as bright as Bishey's smile.

Bishey had come when he could stay away no longer; he and Miss Em'ly
had had their first little talk, so they came out to where I was laying
the table. They were both beaming. Miss Em'ly took hold at once to
help. "Bishey," she commanded, "do you go at once to where my boxes
are open, the one marked 7; bring me a blue jar you'll find in one
corner." He went to do her bidding, and I to see about the kiddies.
When I came back with them, there was a small willow basket in the
center of our improvised table, heaped high with pears, apples, and
grapes all a little the worse for their long journey from New York
State to Wyoming, but still things of beauty and a joy as long as they
lasted to Wyoming eyes and appetites. We had a perfectly roasted leg of
lamb; we had mint sauce, a pyramid of flaky mashed potatoes, a big dish
of new peas, a plate of sponge-cake I will be long in forgetting; and
the blue jar was full of grape marmalade. Our iced tea was exactly
right; the pieces of ice clinked pleasantly against our glasses. We
took our time, and we were all happy. We could all see the beautiful
sunset, its last rays lingering on Miss Em'ly's abundant auburn hair to
make happy the bride the sun shines on. We saw the wonderful
colors--orange, rose, and violet--creep up and fade into darker shades,
until at last mellow dusk filled the room. Then I took the kiddies to
my room to be put to bed while I should wait until time for the
ceremony.

Soon the babies were sleeping, and Jerrine and I went into the
sitting-room. They were sitting on the "sofy." She was telling him that
the apples had come from the tree they had played under, the pears from
the tree they had set out, the grapes from the vine over the well. She
told him of things packed in her boxes, everything a part of the past
they both knew. He in turn told her of his struggles, his successes,
and some of what he called his failures. She was a most encouraging
little person, and she'd say to him, "You did well, Bishey. I'll say
_that_ for you: you did well!" Then he told her about the flowers he
had planted for her. I understood then why