beside the silver covers of the hot dishes. On the top of the pile of letters was Crispin's!
Hildegarde read it before she ate a mouthful. The news it contained seemed too good to be true. Crispin was coming! He wrote that he would be in Baltimore during the holidays, and hoped she would let him come to Round Hill to say "A Merry Christmas."
"The darling, the darling," she found herself saying. She had never called Crispin that even in her thoughts, but she said it again, "The darling!"
Delia's voice came from the bathroom, where she was scrubbing the tub, "Nobody knows the troubles I has—"
Hildegarde felt there weren't any troubles in the world—Crispin was coming—!
"Delia," she called.
"Yes, Honey?"
"Is there an extra room? A friend of mine has written that he is to be in Baltimore, and I want him here for the week-end."
Delia, standing in the bathroom door, surveyed her mistress speculatively. "He mus' be made of gold to make yo' eyes shine like that."
"I've known him all my life, Delia."
"They's some folks I've known all my life," said wise Delia, "that don' make my eyes shine."
Hildegarde passed that over. "Do you think we'll have a room for him?"
"They ain' one left, Honey-chile. Some of them might double up—two beds. But you'll have to ask yo' Daddy."
