We knew it signalized a peril and a mystery.

That I should have to meet it, somewhere up the hidden pathway, I had no doubt whatever.
"Dinner's ready!" exclaimed the cheerful voice of Aunt Deel.
Then what a stirring of chairs and feet as we sat down at the table.

Old Kate sat by the side of my aunt and we were all surprised at her good manners.
Uncle Jabez--a member of the white church--prayed for a moment as we sat with bowed heads.

I have never forgotten his simple eloquence as he prayed for the poor and for him who was sitting in the shadow of death (I knew that he referred to Amos Grimshaw and whispered amen) and for our forgiveness.
We jested and laughed and drank cider and reviewed the year's history and ate as only they may eat who have big bones and muscles and the vitality of oxen.

I never taste the flavor of sage and currant jelly or hear a hearty laugh without thinking of those holiday dinners in the old log house on Rattleroad.
Some of the men and two of the women filled their pipes and smoked while the dishes were being picked up and washed.