She opened a drawer and laid the letter away; she would understand the rest of it when she was not in such a tumult. Did Roger know he was coming home? Judith had not told her. Had he told no one but herself? Did he expect her to tell the others? She had to take her eyes and burning cheeks down stairs, but she did not have to speak of her letter yet. And, after all, there was nothing in it to speak of. It was a letter not worth the writing. The girl in the blue gingham, with the yellow waves of hair dropping to her waist in one long braid, was giving the last touches to the dinner table set for three; the roses in the centre of the table were from Aunt Affy’s garden. “They are talking still—Uncle Cephas and Roger. They will never get through; they begin in the middle every time. I have been so interested that I forgot to boil the eggs. There are chops down cellar; shall I broil them? I always think of Don when I broil chops. I broiled chops for him that last time I saw him. Do you know I believe he is coming home soon? He thinks he will surprise me; but I have guessed it all summer.” “Yes; get the chops,” replied Marion. “And you listen there at the window,” laughed Judith; “Uncle Cephas is touching on marriage now. He told Roger he did a wrong thing when he married Jean Draper to a man who is not a Christian; she is only nineteen and does not know better, he said. Roger has been trying to argue himself right; but I don’t know how Roger could help that, do you?” “No; Roger couldn’t help it; David Prince comes to church regularly and Roger admires him; Jean’s father and mother were willing; I think Uncle Cephas takes too much upon himself. Roger believes David Prince is a Christian and doesn’t know it. Roger knows it; and Jean does. But Roger never minds Uncle Cephas.” Uncle Cephas was speaking with low intensity; standing at the window Marion listened: at first indignant, then she became interested. Roger would miss his appointment; perhaps he was so amused with the old man that he had forgotten his drive to Meadow Centre. “You see, dominie, in marriage there’s a heap to look at besides young folks choosing each other, even more than parents being willing; parents may be mistaken—there’s the command that comes straight and strong. I am as interested in the marriage question as I am in all the other things that concerns the life of the church and the community; I’ve had years enough to study it theoretically,” he went on, with his deep laugh. “Which command are you bringing down upon my head now?” inquired the minister, in a tone of good fellowship. “Is it the dominie that asks which? You who should have all the commands, and promises, and threatenings at your tongue’s end—” “My tongue would have no end then,” replied Roger.