The whole affair had an al fresco flavor which stoppered convention.  The two women visitors pitched in and had as good a time as anybody.

In the middle of the festivities a young man walked past the front fence; a stranger evidently, for-his clothes wore the cut of a city, and a cosmopolitan, up-to-date city at that.  He stopped and looked at the house, hesitated a moment and then walked in, back to where the folk were eating.

“Excuse me,” said he, as they looked up at him, “but isn’t this Mr. Demilt’s house?”

A momentary silence followed, as it was not clear whose turn it was to answer.  Miss Mattie glanced around and finding Red’s eye on her, replied, “No sir—­Mr. Demilt’s house is about a mile further up the road.”

“Dear me!” said the young man ruefully.  He was a spic-and-span, intelligent looking man, with less of the dandy about him than the air of a man who had never worn anything but clothes of the proper trim, and become quite used to it.  Nevertheless the sweat stood out in drops on his forehead, for Fairfield’s front “street” savoured of a less moral region than it really was, on a broiling summer day.

The young man sighed frankly and wiped his head.  “Well, that’s too bad,” he said.  “I’m a stranger here—­would you kindly tell me where I could get some dinner?”

“What’s the matter with that?” inquired Red, pointing to the roast, which still preserved an air of fallen greatness.  He had liked the look of the other instantly.

The stranger looked first at Red and then at the roast.  “The only thing I can see the matter with that,” he answered, “is that it is a slice too thick.”

“Keno!” cried Red, “you get it.  Mattie, another plate and weapons to fit.  Sit down, sir, and rest your fevered feet.  It you don’t like walking any better than I do, you’ve probably strewn fragments of one of the commandments all the way from where the stage dropped you to this apple tree.”

“It seems to me that I did make some remarks that I never learned at my mother’s knee,” returned the other laughing.  “And I’m exceedingly obliged for the invitation, as there doesn’t seem to be a hotel here, and I am but a degree south of starvation.”

“Red or black?” asked the host, with a quick glance at his guest.

The other caught the allusion.  “I haven’t followed the deal,” he replied, “but I’ll chance it on the red.”

Somehow he felt instantly at home and at ease; it was a quality that Red Saunders dispersed wherever he went.

“There you are, sir,” said Red, forwarding a plate full of juicy meat.  “The ladies will supply the decorations.”

“Do you like rice as a vegetable, sir?” inquired Miss Mattie.

“No—­he doesn’t,” interrupted Red.  “He likes it as an animal—­never saw anyone who looked less like a vegetable than our friend,” The young man’s laugh rang out above the others.