As the faithful high-priestess of the coffee-pot she was always the first to taste her own brew. She now set her cup down hastily. Her red, wrinkled little face was a study. The widow Broadnax, whose cup was untouched, sat silent and impassive as usual, regarding her with the same dull, half-open, unwinking gaze. "What under the sun!" gasped Miss Penelope, still more and more amazed and dismayed, and growing angry as she rallied from the shock. "Come, come!--if I can't eat breakfast in peace, I'll take to the woods. What's the matter?" exclaimed the judge. "Didn't you get the coffee made to suit you, after all that rumpus? Isn't it good?" "Good!" shrieked Miss Penelope. "It's poisoned, I do believe! Don't drink it, any of you, if you value your lives!" "Oh, nonsense!" said the judge. "You are too hard to please, Sister Penelope. And you spoil the rest of us, making the coffee yourself. Never mind--never mind!" He took a sip and made a wry face, but he hardly ever knew what he was eating, and pushing the cup back, forgot all about it. He was more interested in Ruth's account of the meeting, and asked many questions about her ride home. "This young doctor must be a fine fellow," he said. "I have been hearing a good deal about him from Father Orin. They are already great friends, it seems. They meet often among the poor and the sick, and work together. I hope, my dear, that you thought to ask him to call. You remembered, didn't you, to tell him that the latch-string of Cedar House always hangs on the outside? I want to thank him and then I should like to know such a man. He is an addition to the community." "Oh, yes, I thought of that, of course," said Ruth, simply. "I told him I knew you and William would like to thank him. He is coming to-day. I hope, uncle Robert, that you will be here when he does come." "I shall be here to thank him," said William. "Uncle need take no trouble in the matter. I will do all that is necessary."