Mrs. Strout was a very good cook and the dinner was a success. Strout leaned far back in his chair and Maude assumed a similar position. Quincy looked at her reprovingly, but she did not change her attitude. To her brother's astonishment, she addressed Mr. Strout. “I suppose you have travelled a great deal, Mr. Strout.” “Well, yes, I have. Since I got back from the war I've taught music, and as my pupils were too lazy to come to me, I went to them. But speaking of travelling, I was in a runaway once. It had been snowing for about four days without a break and the roads were blocked up. I had to go to Eastborough Centre and I hired a horse I'd never driven before.” “Didn't you have to put snow-shoes on him?” asked Maude. “Oh, no, because I waited until the roads were broken out.” “That's one on me,” acknowledged Maude. “Well, I nearly tipped over a dozen times, but I got to the Centre where the roads had been cleared. But my sleigh went into a gully and came down on the horse's heels. My, wasn't she off in a jiffy! I held her in the road, the men, and women, and children, and dogs and hens getting out of the way as fast as they could. She was a going lickety-split, and although I wasn't frightened, I decided she'd got to stop. “I saw a house with an ell, and in the corner the snow was packed up ten feet high. I had an idea. I put all my strength on to one rein, turned her head, and she went into that snow bank out of sight, all but her tail. I got out of the sleigh, sat down on the snow, and laughed till I thought I'd die.” “And the horse?” queried Maude. “It took half an hour to dig her out. They say horses are intelligent, but I don't think they know any more than hens.” “I thought hens were bright,” said Maude. “They say they hide their eggs so we can't poach and boil them.” “Well, you can judge. When we moved into this house all the doors had glass knobs. I took them off, put them in a box and set them out in the barn. I saw a hen setting, but didn't notice her particularly until one day she got off the nest while I was in the barn, and true as I live, that fool hen had been trying to hatch out those knobs.” “They said you have a little boy, Mr. Strout,” Maude looked at him inquiringly. “I hope he isn't sick.” “No, he's all right. But we never let him come to the table when we have company, because he talks too much.” “What's his name?” “That's the funny part of it. My wife has lots of relations, and some wanted him named this, and some wanted him named that. So I went to the library and looked at all the names in the dictionary.” Maude's curiosity was excited. “What did you finally decide upon?” “Well, we haven't named him yet. We call him No. 3, I being No. 1, and my wife No. 2.” After their guests had departed, Mrs. Strout asked, “Why didn't you tell Miss Sawyer that our boy's name was same as yours?”