elbow in hot, soapy water. "You'll never lack talk, Aaron," she
remarked; "or suffer for want of something to say. But it isn't
washing my pots for me, nor bringing in the corn . . ."

"I'm going along now," said Aaron. "If the old man wakes before I'm
back again, don't hurry him off, mother; I'd be glad to talk with him a
bit before he goes."

"Who said anything about hurrying him off?" cried Mrs. Bade. "He can
stay till doomsday, for all I care. He can sit and talk to me, while
you're blowing on your flute. It'll be real companionable."

And she turned back to her pots and pans, a faint smile causing her
mouth to curl down at one end, and up at the other.

Mr. Jeminy awoke in the afternoon. It was the nature of this kind and
simple man to accept without question the hospitality of people he had
never seen before; for he felt friendly toward every one. As he sat
down to supper with the Bades, he bowed his head, and offered up a
grace, with all his heart:

"Abide, O Lord, in this house; and be present at the breaking of bread,
in love and in kindness. Amen."

During the meal, Aaron Bade asked Mr. Jeminy many questions, to
discover what the old man hoped to do. "I suppose," he said, "you've
come a good distance."

"Yes," said Mr. Jeminy gravely, "I have come a good distance."