There was something innately, grimly honest about Mattie Bryant. She might claim the credit of a well-cooked ham, but she would never let a young girl who had been kind to her be treated like a servant. It wasn’t in her. She would have liked to have posed as having well-trained servants, but she couldn’t. “A-a neighbor, did you say, mother?” asked Mr. Bryant, “Why, I don’t seem to remember her. Where does she live?” “No, I guess you don’t, father, she’s mostly been here when you were away. She lives on this street. Cornelia, won’t you have another cup of coffee?” And then there came a shuddering, sliding sound, and a dull, reverberating thud, that vibrated along the floor, and seemed to make the dinner table shiver a tiny bit and everybody looked up and said, “Why, what is that? An earthquake?” and only Mrs. Bryant kept her cool indifference, and went on pouring coffee. But outside the little vine covered house had slid into place between the two maples, and settled to rest exactly where it had been aimed by the three men who had put it there, and Joyce was out in the sunset fluttering three five dollar bills from her precious hoard and smiling her wistful, wild rose smile: “I wish I could give you ten times as much,” she said, “If I only had it! You’ve been so kind.” The old chief stood a minute and watched her as she went in, looked at the bill, half folded it to put in his pocket, thought better of it and stepped inside the building. He glanced about, fumbled a pin from the lapel of his old coat and pinned it up on the wall opposite the door. Tom watched him from a distance, squinting his eyes thoughtfully, busied himself with his dinnerpail and pickaxe till the chief was around the corner, when he slipped into the cottage, took a look around, stood thoughtful a minute and deliberately took out his own five dollar bill and pinned it beside the other. Then he went out quickly and followed his chief down the street. Over in the kitchen Joyce, too weary to eat much supper had taken a bite and gone at the dishes pell mell. She was a swift worker and used to turning things off rapidly, but the last two days had been more strenuous than any in her short life, and now that the immediate excitement of the dinner and the house were over, she was beginning to feel that she had reached her limit.