The coming of the Dale car was the beginning of a series of commotions in this haven of peace. A big army truck arrived with a noise of thunder bringing trestles and plank for a temporary band stand. It stopped, and through the balmy silence sounded a rough, coarse, masculine voice, "Where in the devil do they want this blame thing?" Answered his companion, "You can search me." A window closed with a crash to shut out contamination from such vulgar sources. As the army truck and its crew noisily departed, another machine entered the grounds. It was a quiet car, not given to loud or uncouth uproar. Stealing up the driveway, it stopped. Mr. Vivian emerged, garbed in spotless white. Other soft stepping, mild mannered men, similarly clothed, accompanied him, bearing freezers of cream and boxes of cake. Serena entered into conference with the caterer. "Des ole ladies dey wants der tea mo'e den yo'alls sweet stuff." Mr. Vivian appeared pained at such taste. Serena went on, "Ah's gwine mek de tea in de kitchen an' surve it an' de sandwiches outen de side do'." Disgust sat upon Mr. Vivian's features. "I shall serve the cream from under the trees, in the cool fresh air," he announced. "You gwine surve it full o' bugs an' flies den," predicted Serena. Mr. Vivian, through the exercise of self-control, stood mute. Serena sought information. "Who gwine surve ma tea an' ma sandwiches?" she inquired. Mr. Vivian whistled a few measures of melody, softly. Being thus engaged, he could not respond. Serena pressed for an answer. "Ain' yo'all do dat?" "Possibly my men may assist you," the caterer conceded, as he glanced at his assistants grouped at his back. Serena was supported by Ike and several colored females, employees of the Home, into whose good graces the chauffeur was endeavoring to ingratiate himself. The situation was tense. Serena's hands were upon her hips and her entire body vibrated. Her eyes glistened with rage and rested menacingly upon the caterer. She was clothed in an air of mystery. Her opponent could not determine whether she proposed to rely upon logical argument, abusive language, or physical violence. Mr. Vivian noted uneasily the mass of vibrant temper he had aroused. He stood his ground, however, and did not retreat. "Whoall is er givin' dis yere sociable? Whoall pays fo' dis yere 'tainment? Ah asts you dat? Answer me, whiteman?" Ike drew nigh, inclining an ear that he might miss no word of the altercation. "Dats right," he interjected in a rich mellow voice. Mr. Vivian gave no heed to the aid and comfort vouchsafed his adversary. "Ah tells you who pays. Ah'm right yere to tell yo'all who pays," proclaimed Serena. "Miss Virginy done pay. Dat who." Hers was a song of triumph now. "Ahs her nu'se. Ah's her housekeeper." She shook a great fist at the caterer. "Whiteman, wot ah sez, ah means. Ef yo'all ain' gwine surve ma sandwiches an' ma tea, jes tek yo'se'f an' des yere white waiters away f'om yere."