"Well, I should hope that I could give them one meal at least."
"But you haven't enough dishes. That is, you haven't cups that match——"
"Cups that match, indeed! H'm. They can be thankful to get any cups at all in this wilderness. I've promised Mammy Easter my pink beads if she'll make us some beaten biscuit, and I have sent Mulcahy to Mrs. Gates's for three chickens, and I'll open two jars of my white peach preserve. I don't care if they're the Grand Mogul and the Czar of all the Russias, they can surely condescend to eat Mammy's fried chicken."
"Yes, they'll be sure to like chicken," conceded Marian.
"They'd better like it. It's all they're going to get. Chicken and potatoes and biscuit, preserves and coffee, that's all. Yes, and lashin's and lavin's of cream gravy. It'll be fit for a king. Even his Highness, the acting president, won't dare complain!"
If any complaints as to Sally Lou's hospitality were spoken, they were not audible to the human ear. As Roderick said afterward, it was fortunate that nobody kept the beaten biscuit score; while one grieves to relate that in spite of Sally Lou's generous preparation, poor Mammy Easter was obliged to piece out an exceedingly skimpy meal from the fragments of the supper, instead of the feast that she had anticipated. Even the pink beads proved a barely adequate consolation.
The hour that followed, spent before the Burfords' tiny hearth-fire, was the best of all. For a while, the men worked over the mass of blueprints that recorded the excavation made during the month past. Here President Locke, the magnificent figure-head, gave way, promptly and meekly, before Crosby's wider experience. Roderick and Burford listened, all ears, to the elder man's shrewd illuminating comment, his quiet suggestion, his amused friendly sympathy. Both groaned inwardly when the launch whistled from below, a warning that their guests must be off to meet the north-bound train.
President Locke bowed over Sally Lou's hand with majestic courtesy.
"A most delightful hour you have given us, Mrs. Burford. We shall remember it always and with deep pleasure. But one thing is lacking in your hospitality. You have not given us the special pleasure of meeting your young sons."
Then Sally Lou, the poised stately young hostess, colored pink to her curly fair hair.