"There you go again, Sylvia! You kinder remind me of the widow's cruse, never failin'. 'Tain't many families gets hold of anything like you. Well, I must be sayin' good-night--there seems to be several people tryin' to butt in an' use this line, though probably they don't want it for anything important at all. I've got no patience with folks that uses the telephone as a means of gossip, an' interfere with those that really needs it. Besides, though I'd be glad to talk with you a little longer, I'm plum tuckered out with the heat, as I said before. I ben makin' currant jelly, too. It come out fine--a little too hard, if anything. But, as I says to Joe, 'Druv as I am, I'm a-goin' to call up that poor lonely girl, an' help her pass the evenin'.' Come over an' bring your sewin' an' set with me some day soon, won't you, Sylvia? You know I'm always real pleased to see you. Good-night." "Good-night." Sylvia leaned back, laughing. Mrs. Elliott, who infuriated Thomas, and exasperated Austin, was a never-failing source of enjoyment to her. She went back to the porch to wait for Austin, still chuckling. After the conversation she had had with him, she was greatly surprised, when, a little after eight o'clock, the garden gate clicked. She ran down the steps hurriedly with his name on her lips. But the figure coming towards her through the dusk was much smaller than Austin's and a voice answered her, in broken English, "It ain't Mr. Gray, missus. It's me." "Why, Peter!" she said in amazement; "is anything the matter at the farm?" "No, missus; not vat you'd called _vrong_." "What is it, then? Will you come up and sit down?" He stood fumbling at his hat for a minute, and then settled himself awkwardly on the steps at her feet. His yellow hair was sleekly brushed, his face shone with soap and water, and he had on his best clothes. It was quiet evident that he had come with the distinct purpose of making a call. "Can dose domestics hear vat ve say?" he asked at length, turning his wide blue eyes upon her, after some minutes of heavy silence. "Not a word." "Vell den--you know Mr. Gray and I goin' avay to-morrow." "Yes, Peter." "To be gone much as a mont', Mr. Gray say." "I believe so." "Mrs. Cary, dear missus,--vill you look after Edit' vile I'm gone?" "Why, yes, Peter," she said warmly, "I always see a good deal of Edith--we're great friends, you know." "Yes, missus, that's vone reason vy I come--Edit' t'ink no vone like you--ever vas, ever shall be. But den--I'm vorried 'bout Edit'." "Worried? Why, Peter? She's well and strong." "Oh, yes, she's vell--ver' vell. But Edit' love to have a good time--'vun' she say. If I go mit, she come mit me--ven not, mit some vone else." "I see--you're jealous, Peter."