The little room was bare of decoration except for some colored lithographs and wood-cuts, which for the most part represented the funeral corteges of distinguished Americans, with a few hospital scenes and the sinking of a steamship. A rug soiled to a dull drab made a sort of mud spot before the fireplace; a knitted tidy, suggestive of the antimacassar, ornamented the only rocker; at one end stood the stove, and hard by two fixed tubs. Everything except the carpet was scrupulously clean. Miss Higgins brought to the table a dish of steaming boiled eggs, half a loaf of white bread, and a vegetable dish with a large piece of butter. "I'll have some coffee for ye in a minute," she remarked as she placed the dishes before them. McAllister broke some of the eggs into a tumbler and cut the bread. "What might be your business?" inquired Miss Higgins. "Er--well--" hesitated McAllister. "I've travelled quite a bit." "I had a cousin in the hardware line," remarked the hostess reminiscently. "He travelled everywheres. Has it ever taken you ez fur as St. Louis?" "No," said McAllister. "My line never took me so far." "Andrew died there--of the water. What's your business?" continued Miss Higgins to Wilkins. "I'm with Mr. McAllister, ma'am." "Oh! same firm?" Wilkins coughed violently and evaded the interrogation. "Mr. Wilkins handles gents' clothing, underwear, haberdashery, and notions," interposed McAllister gravely. Wilkins swayed in his seat and grew purple around the gills. "Oh, Mr. Wilkins!" cried Abby, "what's the matter? You will burst! Take a drink of water." The valet obediently tried to do as she bade him. "How much is land worth around here?" asked the clubman. "And what do you raise?" Miss Higgins looked at him suspiciously. "We raise pertaters, some corn and oats, and get a purty fair apple crop in the autumn." "Must have been hard work clearing the farm," added McAllister, "if one can judge by the piles of stones." "Work? I guess 'twas work!" sniffed Miss Higgins. "You travellin' men hain't got no idee of what real work is. There ain't a stone in the nineteen acres of farm land. Henery picked 'em all up by hand." "Are you Abby's guardian?" asked McAllister. "Yes," said Miss Higgins. "I'm all the folks she's got, except Moses, down to Portsmouth, and a lot of good he is with that wife he's got!" Wilkins now asked awkwardly to be excused. "That friend of yourn seems to be a dummy!" remarked Miss Higgins after the valet had disappeared. "He isn't much in the social line," admitted his master. "But he knows his business." "I'm goin' out to show Mr. Wilkins the beehive," cried Abby, slipping down from her chair. "Come right along, won't you?" "I'll be there in just a minute," said McAllister. Abby grabbed up her sunbonnet and ran skipping out of the kitchen. "She's a dear little girl," said McAllister. "I hope she'll have a chance to get a good education."