"The best we can do is the best," returned Mr. Smith. "You can give
Mr. Jones a hearty welcome, and that will compensate for any defects
in the dinner. I forewarned him that we should not entertain him
very sumptuously."

"You'd better tell him the whole truth at once," said I, in answer
to this; "and then take him to an eating house."

But my good husband would hear to nothing of this. He had invited
his old friend to dine with him; and dine he must, if it was only on
a piece of dry bread.

"Pick up something. Do the best you can," he returned. "We can wait
for half an hour."

"I've nothing in the house, I tell you," was my answer made in no
very pleasant tones; for I felt very much irritated and outraged by
my husband's thoughtless conduct.

"There, there, Jane. Don't get excited about the matter," said he
soothingly. But his words were not like oil to the troubled waters
of my spirit.

"I am excited," was my response. "How can I help being so? It is too
much! You should have had more consideration."

But, talking was of no use. Mr. Jones was in the parlor, and had
come to take a family dinner with us. So, nothing was left but to
put a good face on the matter; or, at least, to try and do so.