Coming back down after seeing him properly bestowed, the mistress of the house hailed the colored girl. "Pansy," she said, "this place is out of business until further orders, understand?" At that, Pansy seemed deeply puzzled. "But, Miss Sissie," she expostulated, "don't you remember 'at a suttin party--you know, Mista J. W. B.--is 'spectin' to be yere most any time wid--" "Did you hear what I told you?" A quality of metallic harshness in Miss Sissie's voice was emphasized. "Yessum, but you know yo'se'f how that there party, Mista J. W. B., is. He'll shore be dis'p'inted. He's liable raise Cain. He's--" "Get him on the telephone; you know his number. Tell him this place is closed for tonight and for every day and every night until further notice from me. And tell the same thing to everybody else who calls up or stops by during the reunion. Get me?" By her tone she menaced the darky. "Yassum." "Then turn that hall light out." * * * * * For three days Mr. Braswell abode under that roof. Frequently during that time he remarked that he couldn't remember when he'd had a pleasanter stay anywhere. Nor could it be said that Miss Sissie failed in any possible effort to make the visit pleasant for him. He limped down to breakfast next morning; to limp was the best he could do. His entertainer gave her household staff a double surprise, first by coming down to join him at the meal instead of taking her coffee and rolls in her room and second by appearing not in negligée but in a plain dark house-gown which accentuated rather than softened the square contours of her face and the sharp lines in it. By daylight the two had better opportunity to study each other than the somewhat hurried meeting of the night before had afforded. She saw in him a gentle tottery relic of a man with a pair of faded unworldly old eyes looking out from a bland, wrinkly, rather empty face. He saw in her a most kindly and considerate hostess. Privately he decided she must have had plenty of sorrow in her time--something or other about her told him that life had bestowed upon her more than her proper share of hard knocks. He figured that living here alone in such a big house--except for the servants she seemed to be quite alone--must be lonesome for her, too. As they sat down, just the two of them, he said, not apologetically exactly but a bit timidly: "I hope, ma'am, you don't mind if I say a grace at your table? I always like to invoke the divine blessing before I break bread--seems like to me it makes the victuals taste better. Or maybe"--he hesitated politely--"maybe it's your custom to ask the blessing your own self?"