The house seemed oddly more companionable for his presence. Yes, I did like him--I who had thought I hated dogs! I put him to bed at eleven, in the woodshed, and bade him good-night aloud. The next day Mrs. Pillig was nervously busy with preparations for the feast. The ice man came, and the butcher. I worked half the day at my manuscripts, and half cleaning up the last of my orchard slash, mowing the neglected grass with a scythe, and trimming the grass between the house and the road with a lawn mower. I also edged the path to the kitchen door. Every few moments I looked up the road toward Bert's, but no figure drew near with saucily tilted nose. There was only Buster, trotting hither and yon in every part of the landscape, and, at half-past three, the chunky form of Peter coming home from the Slab City school. I set Peter to work for an hour sawing wood. "But I gotter study," he said. "What?" said I. "Spellin'," said Peter. "All right," said I, "I'll ask you words while you saw." He gave me his book which I held open on the lawnmower handle, and every time the machine came to his end of the strip of lawn I asked him a new word. Then I'd mow back again, and he'd make another cut of apple bough, and then we'd have a fresh word. "This lends an extremely educational aspect to agricultural toil, Peter," said I. "Yes, sir," said he. Peter had his lesson learned and I had the lawn mowed by five o'clock. I devoted the next hour to my correspondence, and then went up to make myself ready for the feast. For some reason I went into the spare room at the front of the house, and glancing from the window saw Miss Stella stealing up through the orchard, her hands full of flowers. I watched cautiously. She peeped into the east window, saw that the coast was clear, and I heard the front door gently opened. I tiptoed to the head of the stairs, and listened. She was in the south room. Presently I heard voices. "Sh," she was cautioning, evidently to Mrs. Pillig. A second later I heard Buster bark his "stranger-coming!" bark by the kitchen door. When I came downstairs, there were fresh flowers beneath the Hiroshiges, a bowl of them on the piano, and a centrepiece in the dining-room. I smiled. "That fairy's been here again," said Mrs. Pillig slyly. "Gave me quite a start." Promptly at seven my guests arrived, and I ushered them with great ceremony into the south room, where Mrs. Bert gazed around with unfeigned delight, and cried, "Well, land o' Goshen, to think this was them two old stuffy rooms of Milt's, with nothin' in 'em but a bed and a cracked pitcher! Hev you read all them books, young man?" "Not quite all," I laughed, as I opened the chimney cupboard to the left of my west fireplace. "Lucky you read what you did before you began ter run a farm," said Bert.