Elnora proceeded slowly, chattering about everything beside the trail.  Philip was interested in all the objects she pointed out, noticing several things which escaped her.  He carried the greens as casually when they took a short cut down the roadway as on the trail.  When Elnora turned toward the gate of her home Philip Ammon stopped, took a long look at the big hewed log cabin, the vines which clambered over it, the flower garden ablaze with beds of bright bloom interspersed with strawberries and tomatoes, the trees of the forest rising north and west like a green wall and exclaimed:  “How beautiful!”

Mrs. Comstock was pleased.  “If you think that,” she said, “perhaps you will understand how, in all this present-day rush to be modern, I have preferred to remain as I began.  My husband and I took up this land, and enough trees to build the cabin, stable, and outbuildings are nearly all we ever cut.  Of course, if he had lived, I suppose we should have kept up with our neighbours.  I hear considerable about the value of the land, the trees which are on it, and the oil which is supposed to be under it, but as yet I haven’t brought myself to change anything.  So we stand for one of the few remaining homes of first settlers in this region.  Come in.  You are very welcome to what we have.”

Mrs. Comstock stepped forward and took the lead.  She had a bowl of soft water and a pair of boots to offer for the heavy waders, for outer comfort, a glass of cold buttermilk and a bench on which to rest, in the circular arbour until dinner was ready.  Philip Ammon splashed in the water.  He followed to the stable and exchanged boots there.  He was ravenous for the buttermilk, and when he stretched on the bench in the arbour the flickering patches of sunlight so tantalized his tired eyes, while the bees made such splendid music, he was soon sound asleep.  When Elnora and her mother came out with a table they stood a short time looking at him.  It is probable Mrs. Comstock voiced a united thought when she said:  “What a refined, decent looking young man!  How proud his mother must be of him!  We must be careful what we let him eat.”

Then they returned to the kitchen where Mrs. Comstock proceeded to be careful.  She broiled ham of her own sugar-curing, creamed potatoes, served asparagus on toast, and made a delicious strawberry shortcake.  As she cooked dandelions with bacon, she feared to serve them to him, so she made an excuse that it took too long to prepare them, blanched some and made a salad.  When everything was ready she touched Philip’s sleeve.

“Best have something to eat, lad, before you get too hungry,” she said.

“Please hurry!” he begged laughingly as he held a plate toward her to be filled.  “I thought I had enough self-restraint to start out alone, but I see I was mistaken.  If you would allow me, just now, I am afraid I should start a fever again.  I never did smell food so good as this.  It’s mighty kind of you to take me in.  I hope I will be man enough in a few days to do something worth while in return.”