"No, you won't, Aunty--she's not that sort. We'll give her the best we
have, with a welcome thrown in."

If Eloise thought it strange for one end of the table to be set with
solid silver, heavy damask, and fine china, while the other end, where
she and the two women of the house sat, was painfully different, she
gave no sign of it in look or speech. The humble fare might have been
the finest banquet so far as she was concerned. She fitted herself to
their ways without apparent effort; there was no awkwardness nor feeling
of strangeness. She might have been a life-long friend of the family,
instead of a passing acquaintance who had come to buy lingerie.

[Sidenote: Friendly Conversation]

As she ate, she talked. It was not aimless chatter, but the rare gift of
conversation. She drew them all out and made them talk, too. Even Miriam
relaxed and said something more than "yes" and "no."

"What delicious preserves," said Eloise. "May I have some more, please?
Where do you get them?"

"I make them," answered Miriam, the dull red rising in her cheeks. She
had not been entirely disinterested when she climbed up on a chair and
took down some of her choicest fruit from the highest shelf of the
store-room.

"Do you--" A look from Barbara stopped the unlucky speech. "Do you find
it difficult?" asked Eloise, instantly mistress of the situation. "I
should so love to make some for myself."