Mary Jane looked up in consternation. Her father was bringing in two men; one was the minister and the other a stranger. She could hear them wiping their boots on the old rug on the porch. Abigail sprang helpfully forward to gather up and conceal her cleaning rags, and in doing so overturned the churn, half full of buttermilk! Mary Jane heard the crash, and saw the door open. Her father stepped right into the rushing stream of buttermilk before he saw there was an accident, and Mary Jane wondered stupidly why she had never noticed before how much the floor sloped toward the entry. The buttermilk ran over her father’s shoes. “This is a sad state of affairs, Daughter,” her father said with grave reproof, “but we will go around by the other door. The minister has called to see your mother, and this good man, the indigo peddler, needs some breakfast. He has traveled far this morning. Attend to his needs and I doubt not he will show his gratitude in some way that will help you.” Mary Jane looked ruefully at the confusion, but gratefully to her father for his forbearance. Abigail had meant well, and accidents would happen. Even if it was housecleaning time, the peddler must be fed. Father believed that all hungry people should be treated kindly. “Better to feed a dozen ungracious ones,” he said, “than to turn away one deserving and needy.” Mary Jane directed Abigail to bring out cold porridge and salt fish and milk for the peddler, while she mopped up the floor. As Mistress Dodd finished her call and came out of their mother’s room, Mary Jane looked up from the floor and asked her if she would not take home a pat of new butter. “’Twill not come amiss with hot Johnny cake, Mistress Dodd,” she said, as she went on with her mopping. “Yes, indeed, I will be glad to have it, Mary Jane, and thank you, too. What a bother to lose the good buttermilk,” she added, looking at the floor. Then she slyly pinched Mary Jane’s white arm. “John Lewis came home last night, and they say he looks fine and hearty, Mary Jane. Think you he has learned to talk and ask questions? Have you an answer ready for him? Do not turn away your head, child, I mean naught by these bantering words. Later, I will send Sam for our baked beans. Thank you for letting us use your oven. Good-day, all.” Mary Jane finished cleaning up the floor and scattered the children who had gathered in the kitchen. Strangers were an event, and the young ones looked at the peddler eagerly and intently. The old man sat down and drew toward him the bowl of porridge, first taking a long draught of the buttermilk near at hand. Looking up from her task, Mary Jane reproved Dorothy for staring. [Illustration: Figure 13. Reel for Winding Thread] “Take this flagon of buttermilk up to the flax patch. We saved this much in the churn. ’Tis ten o’clock and Father and John must be hungry. The drink will help them through the next hour.”