"We might finish the pigeon pie," the young mistress suggested; "the colonel will like a bit of cheese afterward and plenty of bread. Mind, Peggy, ’tis only a cold supper!" "Was you es-pectin’ any of the quality aside yo’selves, missy?" politely demanded Cæsar, in the simple exercise of his duty. "Don’t you keep a-askin’ questions; ’t ain’t no way to converse with human creatur’s!" said Peggy severely. "Laws, Peggy, I feels an int’rist!" said poor Cæsar humbly. "No, you don’t neither; you ’re full to bu’stin’ of cur’osity, an’ it’s a fault that grows by feedin’ of it. Let your mind dwell on that, now, next Sabbath mornin’ up in your gallery, ’stid o’ rollin’ your eyes at the meetin’ folks an’ whisp’rin’ with Cato Lord!" and Peggy laughed in spite of herself. "Come out from there, an’ fetch me some dry pine chips, if ’t won’t demean your dignity. I ’ll ax you some questions you don’t know no answers to, if you be an Afriky potentate!" The master of the house had tiptoed back across the hall like a pleased schoolboy, and was busy with the ledger when his sister came back, a few minutes later, with a steaming porringer. She proceeded to mix a most fragrant potion in a large gayly flowered glass, while Hamilton described his morning entertainment by the major; then an old dog came loitering in, and watched his master enviously, as he drank, and stirred again, and praised the warm drink, and grew every moment more cheerful. Mary Hamilton stood leaning against the Russian stove. "It is just getting warm now, this dull old idol of yours," she said, "and we cannot cool it before spring. We ’ll sit in the dining parlor to-night after supper; you shall smoke your pipe there, and I can see the good firelight. We are lonesome after a gay day and night like yesterday; we have had no word of gossip yet about our ball. I have many things to tell you." Hamilton nodded amiably; the color had come back into his face, and driven away the worn and worried look that had fallen on him before his time. He had made so light of care that care made light of him, and was beginning to weigh his spirit down early in middle life. "I came across the river at the Great Falls," he said, not without effort, and looking at his young sister, "the roads were so heavy through the woods by Cranberry Meadow." "So you did n’t stop to give Granny Sullivan the money?" asked Mary, as if she were disappointed. "Yes, on my way this morning. She knew more about last night than I could sweep together to tell her if I had stayed an hour." "The birds tell granny everything," said Mary, laughing. "She gave me a handsome scolding the other day because Peggy’s rack of spiced hams had fallen in the ashes that very morning. How was the master?"