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Updated: June 20, 2025
Zephania, starched and ribboned, bore proudly in the best silver tea service, Wade watching the progress of the heavily laden tray across the room with grave anxiety. "I'd like you to know," he announced when it was safely deposited on the little table at Eve's side, "that this is Zephania's spread. She made the cake herself and the bread too." "The dear child!" said Miss Mullett.
"Why, Zephania!" exclaimed Eve. And Zephania, very proud and rosy, and trying hard to look unconcerned, made her escape just as Doctor Crimmins, happening by, heard the voices and demanded admittance with the head of his cane on the window-sill. That was a very jolly tea-party. The Doctor ate six pieces of cake and drank three cups of tea, praising each impartially between mouthfuls.
"So am I," answered Wade, throwing open the door. "It certainly smells good, Zephania. Got lots of coffee?" "Oh, yes, Mr. Herring." "Herrick, Zephania." "Yes, sir; excuse me; Herrick." After breakfast Zene, as his father and Zephania called him, or Zenas Third, as he was known to the Village, appeared with Wade's trunk on a wheelbarrow.
Prout cooked like cordon bleu, Zephania, all starch and frills and excitement, served like a but no, she didn't; she served in a manner quite her own, bringing on the oysters with a whispered aside to Wade that she had "most forgot the ice," introducing the chicken with a triumphant laugh, and standing off to observe the effect it made before returning to the kitchen for the new potatoes, late asparagus, and string-beans, so tiny that Mrs.
Being by this time decently dressed, Wade opened the door. "Hello!" he said. "Good morning," answered Zephania. If he had not been informed that her age was fifteen Wade would have supposed Zephania's years to be not over a baker's dozen. She was a round-faced, smiling-visaged, black-haired, black-eyed, ruddy-cheeked little mite who simply oozed cheerfulness and energy.
"Of course, you won't need a whole quart, unless you drink it, but, if you like cream in your coffee, it'll be a great deal heavier from a quart than from a pint. We get six cents for milk." "By all means, let us have a quart," replied Wade, recklessly. "Such good coffee as this, Zephania, deserves the best cream to be had." Zephania blushed with pleasure and beamed down upon him radiantly.
I'm very fond of her in an old man's way. How is the house getting along? Workmen almost through, I guess." "They've promised to get out to-morrow. And that reminds me, Doctor. I want the ladies and you to take dinner with me Saturday night. It's to be a sort of house-warming, you know. Mrs. Prout is coming over to cook for me and Zephania is to serve. I may depend on you?" "To be sure, sir.
"That's the Walton house, and that's " "The what?" asked Wade, sitting up very suddenly in the green rep rocker. "The Walton house, sir." "Oh! Hum! And er who lives there, Zephania?" "Miss Walton and Miss Mullett." "What's this Miss Miss Walton like? Is she rather stout with quite black hair, Zephania?" "Oh, no, Mr. Herring! I guess you saw Mrs. Sampson, the dressmaker.
Just as though he meant to crack things wide open. By Jove! I have it! Your name's Zephania!" A baker's cart ambled by beyond the hedge, the driver leaning around the corner of the vehicle to regard the cottage curiously. Out on the common a bay horse, his halter-rope dragging under his feet, cropped the lush grass. "You're happy," murmured Wade. "The bird's happy. Zephania's happy.
Subsequently the affair had to be discussed in all its aspects by Eve and Wade in the shade of the cedars. And then there was the anxious week when Zephania had a bad sore throat that looked for awhile like diphtheria, and Wade prepared his own breakfasts and lunches and dined alternately at The Cedars and with Doctor Crimmins.
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