I believe I _am_ crazy.' He was in the cottage by this time--in the clean, cool kitchen where the supper table was laid with its plain fair, most unlike the costly viands which daily loaded his board.
'Don't wait for me, Harold must be hungry,' he said, adding quickly: 'Or stay, if you will permit me, I will take a cup of tea with you.

The drive has given me an appetite, and your tea smells very inviting.' It was a great honor to have Arthur Tracy at her table, and Mrs.
Crawford felt it as such, and was very sorry, too, that she had nothing better to offer him than bread and butter and radishes, with milk, and a dish of cold beans, and chopped beets, and a piece of apple pie saved for Harold from dinner.

But she made him welcome, and Jerry, delighted to return the hospitality she had received, brought him a clean plate and cup and saucer, and asked if she might get the best sugar-bowl and the white sugar.

Then, remembering the beautiful flowers which had adorned the table at Tracy Park, she ran out and gathering a bunch of June pinks, put them in a little glass by his plate.
When all was ready and they had taken their seats at the table, Mrs.
Crawford closed her eyes reverently and asked the accustomed blessing which in that house preceded every meal.

Jerry's amen was a good deal louder and more emphatic than usual, while she nodded her head to Arthur, with an expression which he understood to mean, 'You know now what you ought to say, instead of that long prayer,' and he nodded back that he did so understand it.
Arthur enjoyed the supper immensely, or pretended that he did.