"What a pretty girl she must have been!" she reflected.
Around her neck the old lady wore a string of gold beads, and the thick gray hair growing becomingly around her low forehead was carried back and confined in a black net. The simple charm of her welcome to the young girl was the perfection of good manners and her voice was low and pleasant.
"I'm glad you've brought my boy back, Miss Wilbur, I've been missing him."
"That's right, Grammy. Give me a good character," said Philip hugging her and kissing her cheek. "I must have waffles, though. I'm spoiled."
Here a woman appeared at the door of the passageway that led to the kitchen. She was very wrinkled and care-worn in appearance, yet sprightly in her movements and manner. Many of her teeth were missing and her thin hair was strained back out of the way. She wore a large checked apron over her calico dress.
"Hello, there, Aunt Maria," said Philip. "This is Miss Wilbur, one of the guests at Miss Burridge's."
"Happy to meet you," said Aunt Maria, but casually, in the manner of one who has but slight time for trivial things like social amenities. Then she fixed Philip with a severe stare. "Is this the day you was expectin' the New York man?"
"It is, Aunt Maria. Don't tell me you weren't sure and haven't plenty on hand for two man-sized appetites."
"Well, I thought 'twas. I guess I can feed you." Aunt Maria's severity lapsed in a semi-toothless smile. "How's Priscilla Burridge gettin' along?"