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“Dear me, dear me. I would just love to talk to you. You must come into the sitting room as soon as you are done eating and spend the evening with me. I’ll hurry and wash the dishes.”

She spun around and scurried into the house. We hastily finished our meal and prepared sleeping quarters in the hay mow.

Then, as darkness fell, the old man ushered us into the neat living room. The soft rays from a large lamp glimmered on the walnut furniture and illumined the family groups upon the walls. Braided rugs, round and oval, were scattered about the floor and a cheerful blaze in an open-front stove radiated a pleasant welcome in the chill of evening. In a few moments our hostess was extracting all the details of our journey with the neatness and skill of long experience.

After a while Dan rose with a sigh of weariness. “Come, Ethel, we’d better hit the hay. I’ve got to work to-morrow, you know.”

“Hay—hit the hay! No such a thing. Go right into the spare room and make yourselves uncomfortable.” Sarah Jane rushed to open the bedroom door.