MARIA THOMPSON DAVIESS




ROSE OF OLD HARPETH




CHAPTER I

ROSE MARY OF SWEETBRIAR


"Why, don't you know nothing in the world compliments a loaf of bread
like the asking for a fourth slice," laughed Rose Mary as she reached
up on the stone shelf above her head and took down a large crusty loaf
and a long knife. "Thick or thin?" she asked as she raised her lashes
from her blue eyes for a second of hospitable inquiry.

"Thin," answered Everett promptly, "but two with the butter sticking
'em together. Please be careful with that weapon! It's as good as a
juggler's show to watch you, but it makes me slightly--solicitous." As
he spoke he seated himself on the corner of the wide stone table as
near to Rose Mary and the long knife as seemed advisable. A ray of
sunlight fell through the door of the milk-house and cut across his
red head to lose itself in Rose Mary's close black braids.

"Make it four," he further demanded over the table.