One afternoon early in December she went over to Mrs. Kenneth's. Dot had been clearing up under Hal's instructions, and they looked neat as a pin. After she found that her visitor intended to remain, Granny put on a fresh calico dress and a clean cap; and they had a nice old-fashioned time talking, which Hal enjoyed exceedingly.
Mrs. Howard had brought a basket full of various luxuries,—some nice cold tongue, and part of a turkey, besides jellies and cake. Quite a little feast, indeed.
Hal begged them to have tea in the best room, where he lay; and he enjoyed it almost as much as if he could have sat up to the table. Kit and Charlie were delighted with the feast.
Then they settled every thing again, and Granny stirred the fire. The wind whistled without, but within it was bright and cheerful. Hal felt very happy indeed. It seemed as if God's strong arms were about him, helping him to bear the weariness, as he had been strengthened to bear pain.
Presently there was a tramping up the path, and a confusion of voices.
"Some one is coming;" and Hal raised himself. "I am almost sorry—we were having such a nice, quiet time."
A knock at the door, which Granny opened. Kit, in the glowing chimney-corner, rubbed his eyes; and it would have been hard to tell which was the sleepiest, he or the old gray cat.
"O-o-h!" exclaimed Charlie; and then she darted to Hal. "A whole crowd of 'em!"
A crowd, sure enough. It was something of a mystery to know how they were going to get in that small place. There was Dr. and Mrs. Meade, Mr. Howard, Mr. and Mrs. Morris, and the boys, all the Terrys,—indeed, half Madison, Hal thought.