not have come more silently, and again her stealthy ways gave him an
unpleasant sensation. "Kettle is boilin'," she said, and was gone.

He shook his head and muttered, "Queer tribe, these Mumpsons! I've only to
get an odd fish of a girl to help, and I'll have something like a menagerie in
the house." He carried his pails of foaming milk to the dairy, and then
entered the kitchen.

"I've only a minute," he began hastily, seeking to forestall the widow. "Yes,
the kettle's boiling all right. First scald out the coffeepot--put
three-quarters of a cup of ground coffee into the pot, break an egg into it,
so; pour on the egg and coffee half a cup of cold water and stir it all up
well, this way. Next pour in about a pint of boiling water from the kettle,
set the pot on the stove and let it--the coffee, I mean--cook twenty minutes,
remember, not less than twenty minutes. I'll be back to breakfast by that
time. Now you know just how I want my coffee, don't you?" looking at Jane.

Jane nodded, but Mrs. Mumpson began, "Oh certainly, certainly! Boil an egg
twenty minutes, add half a cup of cold water, and--"

"I know," interrupted Jane, "I can always do as you did."

Holcroft again escaped to the barn, and eventually returned with a deep sigh.
"I'll have to face a good deal of her music this morning," he thought, "but I
shall have at least a good cup of coffee to brace me."

Mrs. Mumpson did not abandon the suggestion that grace should be said,--she
never abandoned anything,--but the farmer, in accordance with his purpose to
be civil, yet pay no attention to her obtrusive ways, gave no heed to her
hint. He thought Jane looked apprehensive, and soon learned the reason. His