"Oh, Aunt Ri," expostulated Linda, "you know he is no tailor's dummy, but a very fine-looking man, and just think of what a heroic thing he has just done. There was no deliberation then, but the quick sacrifice of himself at the critical moment. Berk might have been killed but for him. I don't see how you can talk so about my brave cousin." "Cousin is it? Well, so long as he remains only that I have no complaint to make of him. I suppose now we shall have to have more respect for him than ever." Linda had to laugh at the aggrieved tone. "_I_ certainly have," she answered emphatically. "I think he was perfectly splendid." "Berk, or any other half way decent man would have done the same thing under like circumstances," argued Miss Ri. "I don't see that it was anything for him to crow over." "I think it was decidedly." Linda stood her ground. "Well, we won't quarrel over it," continued Miss Ri. "Let's change the subject. I was just thinking, Linda, that I have discovered something since I have had you here with me, though, by the way, one does that all through life; some truth, some moral of living is suddenly revealed at a given stage. Life is nothing more than a series of revelations." "And what has been revealed to you, wisest of Aunt Ris." Linda came over and took her friend's face between her hands. "That one must have somebody to work for in order to get the best out of existence." Linda's hands dropped; her face grew wistful. "And I have no one but myself to work for," she shook her head sadly. "You have me, in a certain sense, and it is too early yet for you to despair of having someone else." Miss Ri laughed wickedly. Linda pretended to box her ears. "You are a naughty old thing. I am going out to talk to Mammy, and leave you to meditate upon your sins," she said. Mammy was sitting at the table lingering over her dinner. She never liked to cut short this happy hour of the day, and was fond of picking here and picking there, though she would not remain at the table if anyone entered. It would never do to have "white folkes" see you eat. "I thes gwine to cl'ar away," she said with a beaming smile as she swept bones and potato skins into her empty plate. "Oh, Mammy, you haven't finished your dinner," exclaimed Linda. "Yas, I done et all I wants. I thes res'in' up a little 'fo' I does mah dishes. Set down, honey, an' tell yo' Mammy what yuh-all been a-doin' whilst yuh was up in de city. Mighty fine doin's, I reckon. Yuh stay at de big hotel?" "Yes." "An' w'ar dat nice floppity white frock?" "Yes, I wore it several times." "An' yuh has uver so many nice young gem'mans come to see yuh?" "Not very many. You see I don't know a great many people, and I am not going to dances this winter, of course. Mr. Jeffreys came up while I was there, and he is a nice young gentleman, I am sure." Mammy began delicately to wipe her tumblers. "Miss Lindy, yuh ain't gwine ma'y dat man, is yuh?"