Whitehall had not been famous for its hospitality since the death of Elliott Pringle, Miss Sallie’s husband. During his lifetime they had kept open house, and Miss Sallie was the soul of hospitality. She would dearly have loved to continue his policy and the prestige of Whitehall, but her sister, Sue Yancey, was, in popular parlance, called "the stingiest old maid in the State of Georgia," and when she came to live with her widowed sister she watched the expenditures at Whitehall, until nobody who ever dined there had enough to eat. There was a story going around that the reason she lost the only beau she ever had, was because once when he was going on a journey she asked him to take out an accident insurance policy, and when he told her that he was all alone in the world and that no one would be benefited by his death, she told him to send the ticket to her. Rumour said that he sent the ticket, but that he never came back to Sue. Sue either cared nothing for the good opinion of other people or she made the mistake of underestimating her friends’ intelligence, for she carried her thrift with a high hand. At Sunday-school picnics it was no uncommon sight for the neighbours to see Miss Sue Yancey going around to the different tables gathering all that was edible into her basket to take home with her. And that these scraps subsequently appeared on the table at Whitehall often led to high words between the sisters; but in the end it always happened that Sue conquered, because Mrs. Pringle dreaded her sister’s bitter tongue and ungoverned temper. Yet Sue often complained that she felt so alone in the world because no one understood her. "Don’t stay," whispered Gordon Fitzhugh, in his wife’s ear. "Sue never gives me enough sugar in my tea!" Carolina could not help overhearing. She looked up quickly and laughed. "Are you getting thin?" he whispered. "Does Sue give you as hash for supper the beef the soup is made from?" "I think Miss Sallie is ordering while we are here," said Carolina, loyally. She would not tell her Uncle Fitzhugh that one morning when Lily was taking Cousin Lois’s breakfast up to her, when her asthma was bad, that Sue had waylaid Lily in the hall and had taken the extra butter ball off the tray and carried it back to the dining-room in triumph. "I admire economy," said Uncle Fitzhugh. "Sue’s ancestors were French, but, in her case, French thrift has degenerated into American meanness." "You stay," said Carolina, dimpling, "and I’ll see that you get all the sugar you want, if I have to ask for it myself!" "Then I’ll stay," chuckled Uncle Fitzhugh, and he beckoned to De Courcey to come out into the garden and have a smoke--in reality to gossip. Hardly were the gentlemen out of sight when Peachie said, excitedly: