Benjy’s eye lighted. A glow from the red room shone in the dusk. “It’s the new girl,” he said. They quickened their pace a little. Uncle William went ahead and opened the door. The little room was full of warm light and the pleasant smell of cooking. By the stove knelt a young girl, her hand on the oven door. She looked up as they came in and closed the door carefully. Then she got to her feet—a little smile on her face. “I’ve come, Mr. Benslow,” she said. “We’re glad to see you,” said Uncle William heartily. He glanced at the table. “‘D you find dishes enough for a meal?” A little dimple in her cheek came out, and ran away. “I washed a few,” she replied. Uncle William’s eye ran along the shelf over the sink. “You’ve done ’em all!” “Not quite—I put some of them outside by the door—pots and kettles and pans—” “That’s what I fell over,” said Uncle William, “I gen’ally keep ’em under the sink—out o’ sight—kind of—?” He looked at her. “I saw where you kept them.” She had dear, searching eyes and quick little movements that ran ahead of her and did things for her. “Supper is ready,” she said. “The biscuit are just right.” She took the biscuit from the oven and set chairs for them at the table and flitted about, with quick, soft steps. Juno, on her lounge, huddled herself a little and turned her halfshut eyes on the swish of skirts. By and by she got down and came over to Uncle William. He fed her a bit of fish and she returned to her lounge, closing her eyes. “She knows suthin’ ’s happened,” said Uncle William, “Her mind’s going round and round.” Bodet smiled. “She looks placid enough.” “You can’t tell that way,” said Uncle William. “Women ain’t like men-folks—not just like ’em. They ’ll smile and look polite and fix their faces—and then, all of a sudden, things ’ll happen.” A little laugh bubbled over from the sink. Uncle William turned in his chair and looked at her. He adjusted his glasses and looked again. “‘D you say anything, Celia?” “No, sir—I just thought it was kind of funny about women—” “So ’tis,” said Uncle William, “It’s funny’s anything I know—the way women be. I take a sight o’ comfort thinkin’ about women and the way they be.” “Yes, sir—would you like some more tea?” Uncle William waved it away—“Not another mite. We’ve had a good supper.” He pushed back from the table. “Now, we ’ll help you clear up a little—” He looked about him. “I don’t want anybody to touch my dishes,” she said promptly. Uncle William looked at her over his glasses. “I was going to show you where things be,” he said. “I know where everything is.’.rdquo; The little smile played about her lips. “And I don’t need any help.” She whisked the cloth from the table and bore it away. Uncle William’s eye followed her. “There’s a letter for you.” She took it from behind the dock and laid it on the table. Uncle William took it up with slow fingers. “I gen’ally read my letters first thing,” he said reflectively.