This assumption of Sairy's extreme youth, and that Lyddy would understand her foibles because she was so much older, amused the latter immensely. Sairy was about thirty-five. Meanwhile Mrs. Pritchett bustled about with remarkable spryness to make 'Phemie comfortable. There was a warm bedroom right off the kitchen--for this was an old-fashioned New England farmhouse--and in this the younger Bray girl took off her wet clothing. Lyddy brought in their bag and 'Phemie managed to make herself dry and tidy--all but her great plaits of hair--in a very short time. She would not listen to Mrs. Pritchett's advice that she go to bed. But she swallowed a bowl of hot tea and then declared herself "as good as new." The Bray girls had now to tell Mrs. Pritchett and her daughter their reason for coming to Hillcrest, and what they hoped to do there. "For the land's sake!" gasped the farmer's wife. "I dunno what Cyrus'll say to this." It struck Lyddy that they all seemed to be somewhat in fear of what Mr. Pritchett might say. He seemed to be a good deal of a "bogie" in the family. "We shall not interfere with Mr. Pritchett's original arrangement with Aunt Jane," exclaimed Lyddy, patiently. "Well, ye'll hafter talk to Cyrus when he comes in to dinner," said the farmer's wife. "I dunno how he'll take it." "_We_ should worry about how he 'takes it,'" commented 'Phemie in Lyddy's ear. "I guess we've got the keys to Hillcrest and Aunt Jane's permission to live in the house and make what we can off the place. What more is there to it?" But the older Bray girl caught a glimpse of Cyrus Pritchett as he came up the path from the stables, and she saw that he was nothing at all like his rotund and jolly wife--not in outward appearance, at least. The Pritchett children got their extreme height from Cyrus--and their leanness. He was a grizzled man, whose head stooped forward because he was so tall, and who looked fiercely on the world from under penthouse brows. Every feature of his countenance was grim and forbidding. His cheeks were gray, with a stubble of grizzled beard upon them. When he came in and was introduced to the visitors he merely grunted an acknowledgment of their names and immediately dropped into his seat at the head of the table. As the others came flocking about the board, Cyrus Pritchett opened his lips just once, and not until the grace had been uttered did the visitors understand that it was meant for a reverence before meat. "For wha' we're 'bout to r'ceive make us tru' grat'ful--pass the butter, Sairy," and the old man helped himself generously and began at once to stow the provender away without regard to the need or comfort of the others about his board. But Maw Pritchett and her son and daughter seemed to be used to the old man's way, and they helped each other and the Bray girls with no niggard hand. Nor did the shuttle of conversation lag.