Elizabeth thought long upon the joy in Luther's face as he greeted her. John must have made some move about the request for help which covered the neglect of all these months adequately to Luther. Sadie finished her inspection of the inner regions and returned to the kitchen primed with things to be said to her rival, and Elizabeth fared badly at her hands. Her innate refinement would not let Elizabeth strike back in the coarse way in which she was attacked, and she listened to hints and pretended sympathy on the subject of Farnshaw domestic difficulties, of reported debts which John Hunter had contracted, and neighbourhood estimates of the fact of her own secluded manner of life since her marriage, till her head swam and her memory was scorched for many a day. But though her head ached and her knees almost refused to perform their office, Elizabeth remained in the kitchen and superintended every dish prepared for that harvest dinner. The fact that the pies had scorched left her with the feeling that John had had a foundation of real fact for his demand that she give them her personal attention, and left her humbled and ready to beg forgiveness. Every fibre of her cried out for the trust she had seen in Luther's glance at Sadie. _There_ was true marriage, and the state which she laboured daily to establish. At dinner John did not look at Elizabeth, though her eyes sought his constantly, and when the pie was passed around she remarked on its trimmed edges shamefacedly. Silas Chamberlain wiped his knife on a piece of bread and slid it under the section nearest him. "You never mind about them edges. It looks like a good pie t' me, an' John here will eat his share of it, I'll warrant you. Th' rest of this company can survive if he does. I just been a thinkin' as I set here what a stunnin' cook you've got t' be in these ten months. I used t' think you'd have a lot t' learn after you was married, but you seem t' 'a' learned it short off--eh, John?" John Hunter had to reply. "I've been sorry mother had to go away. Elizabeth's done pretty well, but mother would have been a great help, with her fixed ways of doing things," he said reluctantly. Luther had been looking earnestly at John, but spared Elizabeth when he saw her confusion by looking quickly down at his plate and saying nothing. "Don't know's Lizzie needs any help as far as doin' things is concerned, though she may need more rest," Silas returned; and Sadie took up the subject. "I think my stove bakes a little better on the bottom," she remarked critically. "I low t' taste your pies to-morrow if it don't rain," Silas answered her without looking up from the bite he was severing with the knife upon which it was to be conveyed to his mouth. Luther Hansen's laugh rang out heartily. "Don't," he said, winking at Sadie. "She'll be keepin' me out of th' field t' fire th' oven."