Cassie had gone up-stairs to make some needed changes in her toilet, the baby had roused from a short nap and was taking a rather mournful interest in the preparations for supper, when Rose, who had just stopped to ask him whether he would rather have honey or preserves, heard a stealthy step upon the porch. A moment later, the door was pushed slowly open and a man walked in. "Good evening, ladies. Is your pa at home?" "N--no," faltered Rose, trying to settle to her own satisfaction whether this dirty-looking stranger might be some new neighbor, who had come upon legitimate business, or whether he was her one horror--a tramp. "Any of your big brothers in?" with rather a jocular manner. "N--no, sir." "And I don't see any bull-dog loafin' round," he added. "Our dord, he is dead," explained the baby solemnly. "Well, that's a good thing. Will the old gentleman be in soon?" "I--I don't know--yes--I--I _hope_ so. Is there any message you would like to leave for him?" Before the man could answer, the baby's voice was again heard. "My fahver he's dorn orf." "Where's he gone, sonny?" "He's dorn on the tars, so's my mohver; and my bid brover he putted yem on, and he won't be home 'til I'm asleep, and he's doin' to brin' me a drum and put it in my bed." (Oh, how Rose longed to shake the baby!) "Well, then, ladies, since you are likely to be alone, I think I'll stay and keep you company; and since you press me, I _will_ take tea and spend the evening. Don't go to any extra work for me, though; it all looks very nice. I'm rather hungry, so you may dish up that ham at once, my dear"--this to poor Florence, who had shrunk almost into invisibility behind the stove-pipe, and who seemed glued to the spot--"I've usually a very fair appetite, and I am sure I will relish it." He tossed his hat down beside the chair which he drew up to the table. With the light falling full upon his dirty, insolent face, Rose knew that her greatest dread was before her. With her knees almost sinking under her, she started toward the stairs, for she felt that she must let the intrepid Cassie know, and find out what she advised. "Where are you going, my dear?" asked the tramp, suspiciously. "You've not got any big cousin or uncle or anything of that kind up-stairs that you are going to call to tea, have you?" "Oh, no, there is no one up-stairs but my poor sister," she managed to gasp. She could not have told why she said "poor sister," unless it was from the sense of calamity which had overtaken them all. "In that case be spry, for I'm hungry, and I want you to pour out my tea for me. I like to have a pretty face opposite me at table." Rose dragged herself up the narrow enclosed stairs and into Cassie's room. "Well, Rose, you _must_ be about tuckered out. You come up-stairs as if you were eighty," said Cassie, looking up from the shoe she was fastening. "Why, what ails you? You look as if you had seen a ghost!"