As we were working away quietly at the supper, the old man was stirring up the fire, keeping away the dogs, and doing everything he could to make things agreeable. All at once the old woman came and crouched down by my side, saying: “Oh, the good missionary, we are so glad you have come. I will help you to peel your potatoes.” And suiting the action to the word she seized hold of one out of the dish, and with about two scratches of her long finger-nails she tore off the jacket of one potato, and then handed it to me, saying, “Oh, it is so good of you to bring us the blessed light. I’ll help you, I will, to get your supper.” We would very much rather have peeled our own potatoes, and had her a little at a distance, with her wretchedly dirty-looking blanket. Suddenly she sprang up, as if a bright idea had occurred to her, and exclaimed, “Oh, I had nearly forgot. I kept it for the missionary when he should come.” Out of a big old box she brought something tied up in a piece of dirty looking rag. “I have kept this till the missionary would come,” she said, as she opened out before us a little flour--possibly the only flour they had had for months, as the people did not see much flour in those days. “I will make them a cake, I will.” We were too busy to notice very closely what she was doing, but we found in a few moments that she had the little flour in the same basket in which she had just washed the potatoes. We saw her give her hands a little rinse in the water, but we were never sure whether she threw this out or whether it was the same into which she put the flour. Soon, however, it was worked up into a paste, and taking it out in her hands she pressed it into a kind of cake. I had a chance then to notice her arms, bare from the shoulders, looking on the outside very black and dirty, and on the inside, where her cooking had removed some of the dirt, a little less dark. No wonder the cake was such a piebald looking thing! This black and white cake was thrown into a hole, which she had scratched among the ashes, to bake, while our hostess got some hot water and made a kind of tea from certain herbs which they used, and which went under the name of “Indian tea.” In a few minutes, the cake, now quite baked, was poked out with a stick, broken in pieces and laid on a dish before us. With this and the tea, as dessert, we finished our supper. Some have asked, “Did you eat it?” Certainly, we ate it, with all the relish we could, and would never have thought of refusing it after all the kindness shown by the dear old people of the house. It is true that these people were dirty beyond description, but out of a warm heart they did their best for us, and endeavored to make us comfortable, and we would have been meanly ungrateful if we had not appreciated it.