"Oh, if only it could be that way all the time!" Martha Matilda sighed, standing beside her carefully-arranged table with shining eyes. But the potatoes were brown and puffy, and the hand of the clock reached to just half-past one. She gave a glance around the room, grabbed her hat, and was off; it was time for her to meet her father at the bridge, as she always met him Sundays, when dinner was ready. No matter how much John Graham might enjoy lolling in the sun by the smelter door with "the boys," he never forgot the time when the brown hat was to be met down by the bridge. "A little close," was often said of John Graham. "A trifle sharp in getting the best of a bargain, but to be depended upon every time." Martha saw her father's faded felt hat bobbing up over the further abutment, and she flew across the bridge. "Oh, I am so glad to see you!" she said, catching hold of one of his big hands and covering it with both of her small ones, as she danced along beside him. "One'd 'most think I'd been to Ingy," said the man in what would have seemed a gruff voice to some. Then he glanced at the little figure by his side, and said in just the same every-day tone, out of which he was seldom drawn, "Might'ly fixed up, seems to me." "It's Easter, you know, pa. I went to Sunday-school. Miss Mary's lily was there, and there was lots of evergreen, and the minister said I helped him preach. And oh, pa, you don't know how the girls did take me in! They sat up just as close!" "Take you in! And why shouldn't they?" "But you know, pa, they fix up so. And--" The little girl stopped, seeming to feel it somewhat difficult to make her father understand the situation. "So it's fine feathers, is it?" And now there was a decided gruffness in his voice. But they had reached the door of the cottage, and the cat jumped down from the chair and brushed against the legs of her master. There was tea to be made, and the chicken to be dished; but the father did the latter, after having washed carefully. The potatoes were given the place of honor and the two sat down to do the meal justice. "We might have had some eggs, seeing it's Easter," said the man, passing one of the largest potatoes to the little girl. "Lutty Williams' mother colored hers. Lutty said I might have one of them, if I'd come over for it." "Guess I wouldn't go to Lutty Williams' for no eggs, if I was in your place!" said the father. This somewhat dampened the little girl's ardor, and the rest of the meal was partaken of in silence. The dishes were cleared away and the red table-cloth replaced. "No use in Jerusha's being bothered," the wise Martha reasoned, as she replaced the white linen in the drawer. Then she unbuttoned the big gingham apron she had put on over the white one, and felt inclined to send the white apron after the table-cloth. But something kept her from doing this. "It's Easter anyhow."