“Mrs. Price said—said they weren’t suitable,” explained the little girl. “You see, they aren’t black.” “Oh!” exploded her uncle. “You greatly lack tact, Joseph Stagg,” said Aunty Rose, and the hardware dealer cleared his throat loudly as he went to the sink to perform his pre-supper ablutions. Carolyn May did not understand just what the woman meant. “Ahem!” said Uncle Joe gruffly. “S’pose I ought t’ve read that letter before. What’s come of it, Car’lyn May?” But just then the little girl was so deeply interested in what Aunty Rose was doing that she failed to hear him. Mrs. Kennedy brought out of the pantry a tin pie plate, on which were scraps of meat and bread, besides a goodly marrow bone. “If you think the dog is hungry, Car’lyn May,” she said, “you would better give him this before we break our fast.” “Oh, Aunty Rose!” gasped the little girl, her sober face all a-smile. “He’ll be de-_light_-ed.” She carried the pan out to Prince. But first, seeing the immaculate condition of the porch floor, she laid a sack down before the hungry dog and put the pan upon it. “For, you see,” she told Aunty Rose, who stood in the kitchen doorway watching her, “when he has a bone, he just _will_ get grease all around. He really can’t help it.” Aunty Rose made no audible comment, but she seemed to view Prince with more curiosity than hostility. When the door closed again, Mrs. Kennedy went to the stove, and instantly, with the opening of the oven, the rush of delicious odour from it made Carolyn May’s mouth fairly water. The lunch she had eaten on the train seemed to have happened a long, long time ago. Such flaky biscuit—two great pans full of the brown beauties! Mr. Stagg sat down at the table and actually smiled. “You never made any bread that _smelt_ better, Aunty Rose,” he said emphatically. She had removed her sunbonnet, and her grey-brown hair proved to be in perfectly smooth braids wound about her head. She must have been well over sixty years of age. Uncle Joe seemed boyish beside her; yet Carolyn May had at first thought the hardware dealer a very old man. The little girl took her indicated place at the table timidly. The cloth was a red and white checked one, freshly ironed, as were the napkins to match. There was a squat old silver bowl in the middle of the board, full of spoons of various sizes, and also a castor, like a miniature carousel, holding several bottles of sauces and condiments. The china was of good quality and prettily flowered. The butter was iced, and there was a great glass pitcher of milk, which looked cool and inviting. “Joseph Stagg,” said Aunty Rose, sitting down, “ask a blessing.” Uncle Joe’s harsh voice seemed suddenly to become gentle as he reverently said grace. A tear or two squeezed through Carolyn May’s closed eyelids, for that had been her duty at home; she had said grace ever since she could speak plainly.