"Poor old Uncle Billy! He is proud of having a house," laughed Judith. "His turkey red curtains are up now and his geranium slips started. He has put on a fresh coat of whitewash, within and without, and his floor is scrubbed so clean you could really make up biscuit on it. It is gratifying, Mumsy, that we have been able to make two old people as happy as we have Cousin Ann and old Uncle Billy. I only hope Cousin Ann doesn't bother you." "Lands sakes, child, she is a heap of company for me and she is a great help. I don't see how such an old person can step around so lively. She stirred up a cake this morning. She says she has been clipping recipes out of newspapers for years and years but they have always made company of her wherever she has visited before and she has never been able to try any of her recipes. Her cake has got a little sad streak in it, owing to the fire getting low while it was baking, but that wasn't to say her fault altogether, as I told her I'd look after the fire while she picked out walnuts for the icing. "We had a right good time though while the cake-making was going on and Mr. Big Josh Bucknor came to pass the time of day. He could not stop but a minute but he nearly split his sides laughing at Miss Ann in a big apron, turning her hand to cooking. She laughed, too, and made as if she was going to hit him with the rolling pin, like that woman in the newspaper named Mrs. Jiggs. Mr. Big Josh brought some fine fish as a present. He said he'd been fishing and had caught more than he could use." That evening, after the dishes were washed, Judith, instead of beginning on the photographic work as was her custom, sat silent with folded hands, her head resting against the back of the winged chair. Her eyes were closed and her face was tense. "Child, you look so tired," said Miss Ann. "You do too much. I am afraid my being here puts more on you than you can stand." In all her many decades of visiting, that was the first time Miss Ann had ever suggested to a hostess that she might be troublesome. Judith insisted she was not tired and that Miss Ann was a help and no trouble, but the old lady could but see that there were violet shadows under the girl's eyes and that the contour of her cheek was not so rounded as it had been in the summer. That night, when Billy came to her room to see if she needed anything before retiring--an unfailing custom of the old man--Miss Ann was on the point of discussing with him the evident fatigue of their beloved young hostess, but before she could open the subject Billy said: