“He is not far from right,” said the old man, smiling.  “Is he there now?”

“No, he comes down Saturday mornings and stays until Monday morning.  That is all the vacation he allows himself.  You are fortunate to live here,” she added, kindly.  “I do not know of a more beautiful place.”

[Sidenote:  Invited to Luncheon]

“Nor I. To us—­to me, especially—­it is hallowed by memories.  We—­you will stay to luncheon, will you not, Miss Wynne?”

Eloise glanced quickly at Barbara.  “If you only would,” she said.

“If you really want me,” said Eloise, “I’d love to.”  She took off her hat—­a white one trimmed with lilacs—­and smoothed the waves in her copper-coloured hair.  Barbara took her crutches and went out, very quietly, to help Aunt Miriam prepare for the guest.

When the kitchen door was safely closed, Barbara’s joy bubbled into speech.  “Oh, Aunt Miriam,” she cried; “she’s bought nearly every thing I had and paid almost double price for it.  She’s already arranged for me to sell at the Woman’s Exchange in the city, and she is going to write to some of her friends about the things I have left.  She’s going to arrange for me to get all my material at the lowest wholesale price, and she’s ordered six complete sets of lingerie for herself.  She wants some more shirtwaists, too.  Oh, Aunt Miriam, do you think the world is coming to an end?”

“Has she paid you?” queried Miriam, gravely.

“Indeed she has.”

“Then it probably is.”

Miriam was not a woman easily to be affected by joy, but the hard lines of her face softened perceptibly.  “Show her the quilts,” she suggested.

“Oh, Aunt Miriam, I’d be ashamed to, to-day, when she’s bought so much.  She’ll be coming up again before long—­she said so.  And father’s asked her to luncheon.”

“Just like him,” commented Miriam, with a sigh.  “He always suffered from hospitality.  I’ll have to go to the store.”

[Sidenote:  The Best We Have]

“No, you won’t, Aunty—­she’s not that sort.  We’ll give her the best we have, with a welcome thrown in.”

If Eloise thought it strange for one end of the table to be set with solid silver, heavy damask, and fine china, while the other end, where she and the two women of the house sat, was painfully different, she gave no sign of it in look or speech.  The humble fare might have been the finest banquet so far as she was concerned.  She fitted herself to their ways without apparent effort; there was no awkwardness nor feeling of strangeness.  She might have been a life-long friend of the family, instead of a passing acquaintance who had come to buy lingerie.

[Sidenote:  Friendly Conversation]

As she ate, she talked.  It was not aimless chatter, but the rare gift of conversation.  She drew them all out and made them talk, too.  Even Miriam relaxed and said something more than “yes” and “no.”