"How good them apples smell!" said Josiah innocently. "Last time I had 'em was down to cousin Amasa True's, he that married his third wife, an' she run through all he had. I went down to see 'em arter the vandoo,--you know they got red o' most everything,--an' they had fried pork an' apples for dinner. Old Bashaby dropped in. 'Law!' says she. 'Fried pork an' apples! Well, I call that livin' pretty nigh the wind!'" Josiah chuckled. He was very warm now, and the savory smell of the dish he decried was mounting to what served him for fancy. "'Melia, you ain't never had your teeth out, have ye?" he asked, as one who spoke from richer memories. "I guess my teeth'll last me as long as I want 'em," said Amelia curtly. "Well, I didn't know. They looked real white an' firm last time I see 'em, but you never can tell how they be underneath. I knew the folks would ask me when I got home. I thought I'd speak." "Dinner's ready," said Amelia. She turned an alien look upon her husband. "You want to wash your hands?" Enoch rose cheerfully. He had got to a hopeful place with the clock. "Set ri' down," said he. "Don't wait a minute. I'll be along." So Amelia and the guest began their meal, while little Rosie climbed, rather soberly, into her higher chair, and held out her plate. "You wait," said Amelia harshly. "Can't you let other folks eat a mouthful before you have to have yours?" Yet as she said it, she remembered, with a remorseful pang, that she had always helped the child first; it had been so sweet to see her pleased and satisfied. Josiah was never talkative during meals. Not being absolute master of his teeth, his mind dwelt with them. Amelia remembered that, with a malicious satisfaction. But he could not be altogether dumb. That, people said, would never happen to Josiah Pease while he was above ground. "That his girl?" he asked, indicating Rosie with his knife, in a gustatory pause. "Whose?" inquired Amelia willfully. "His." He pointed again, this time to the back room, where Enoch was still washing his hands. "Yes." "Mother dead?" Amelia sprang from her chair, while Rosie looked at her with the frightened glance of a child to whom some half-forgotten grief has suddenly returned. "Josiah Pease!" said Amelia. "I never thought a poor, insignificant creatur' like you could rile me so,--when I know what you're doin' it for, too. But you've brought it about. Her mother dead? Ain't I been an' married her father?" "Law, Amelia, do se' down!" said Josiah indulgently. There was a mince-pie warming on the back of the stove. He saw it there. "I didn't mean nuthin'. I'll be bound you thought she's dead, or you wouldn't ha' took such a step. I only meant, did ye see her death in the paper, for example, or anything like that?" "'Melia," called Enoch, from the doorway, "I won't come in to dinner jest now. Elbridge True's drove into the yard. I guess he's got it in mind to talk it over about them cows. I don't want to lose the chance."