presently Margaret came down stairs, dressed a little too much, and a
little too girlish, but appearing very kind and good-natured.

"What shall I call thy name?" asked the old gentleman.

"Emma, if you please," was the reply.

"Well, then, Emma," he continued, "thee is welcome to our table; take
thy chair along, and eat dinner with us."

Emma felt but little appetite for a farmer's dinner; but she saw that
the family would feel more comfortable if she was at the table with
them, and prompted, not by appetite, but by true courtesy, she did as
she was desired. The farmer folded his hands, and the whole family sat
for a moment in rigid silence. Emma was not accustomed to any form of
thanksgiving before meat; but she understood this silent expression,
and sympathized therein.

"Thee looks delicate," said the old man; "what shall I give thee to
eat, Emma?"

"Anything, sir," answered Emma, with habitual politeness, though she
did feel a preference for the milk which came up to the very rim of a
large pitcher upon a corner of the table.

Margaret began to apologize for the coarseness of their meal: but her
father interposed, saying, "It is good enough for well people, and as
good as we generally have; but if thee has anything a little nice for a
poor appetite, bring it to thy friend."