“Well, Sue,” said her father at last, “you and mother ought to have an extra dinner; for Mr. Minturn certainly has earned one.”

“I promised him only a dinner,” she replied; “nothing was said about its being extra.”

“Quantity is all I’m thinking of,” said Minturn.  “I have the sauce which will make it a feast.”

“Beckon it’s gwine on twelve,” said Hiram, cocking his eye at the sun.  “Hadn’t I better feed de critters?”

“Ah, old man! own up, now; you’ve got a backache,” said Minturn.

“Dere is kin’ ob a crik comin’—­”

“Drop work, all hands,” cried Sue.  “Mr. Minturn has a ‘crik’ also, but he’s too proud to own it.  How you’ll groan for this to-morrow, sir!”

“If you take that view of the case, I may be under the necessity of giving proof positive to the contrary by coming out to-morrow.”

“You’re not half through yet.  The hardest part is to come.”

“Oh, I know that,” he replied; and he gave her such a humorously appealing glance that she turned quickly toward the house to hide a conscious flush.

The farmer showed him to the spare-room, in which he found his belongings.  Left to make his toilet, he muttered, “Ah, better and better!  This is not the regulation refrigerator into which guests are put at farmhouses.  All needed for solid comfort is here, even to a slight fire in the air-tight.  Now, isn’t that rosy old lady a jewel of a mother-in-law?  She knows that a warm man shouldn’t get chilled just as well as if she had studied athletics.  Miss Sue, however, is a little chilly.  She’s on the fence yet.  Jupiter!  I am tired.  Oh, well, I don’t believe I’ll have seven years of this kind of thing.  You were right, though, old man, if your Rachel was like mine.  What’s that rustle in the other room?  She’s dressing for dinner.  So must I; and I’m ready for it.  If she has romantic ideas about love and lost appetites, I’m a goner.”

When he descended to the parlor, his old stylish self again, Sue was there, robed in a gown which he had admired before, revealing the fact to her by approving glances.  But now he said, “You don’t look half so well as you did before.”

“I can’t say that of you,” she replied.

“A man’s looks are of no consequence.”

“Few men think so.”

“Oh, they try to please such critical eyes as I now am meeting.”

“And throw dust in them too sometimes.”

“Yes; gold dust, often.  I haven’t much of that.”

“It would be a pity to throw it away if you had.”

“No matter how much was thrown, I don’t think it would blind you, Miss Banning.”

The dining-room door across the hall opened, and the host and hostess appeared.  “Why, father and mother, how fine you look!”

“It would be strange indeed if we did not honor this day,” said Mrs. Banning.  “I hope you have not so tired yourself, sir, that you cannot enjoy your dinner.  I could scarcely believe my eyes as I watched you from the window.”