Aunt Hannah Conant was as good as her word and, after a few days, put on her bonnet and, taking a pan of fresh rolls, hot from the oven and wrapped in one of her best napkins, went over to call on the blind gentleman and his son and incidentally to find out what their religious beliefs were and if the Chinese cook had been converted to Christianity or still ate bird’s nest soup and roasted rats.
She had to ring several times before the door was opened.
“The rolls will get cold if they are not taken in out of the air,” she grumbled.
Finally, the door opened just a wee crack and the Chinaman’s face appeared. Aunt Hannah, not having heard the approach of the domestic, jumped as she realized his ugly face was so close to hers.
“Oh!” she said. “I just came over to bring your poor master some fresh bread and to call on him,” and Mrs. Conant stuck her trumpet in her ear and handed the snowy napkin of rolls to the man.
“Thank ee, klindly, but mlaster not ploor and not hungly.”
Aunt Hannah found herself alone with the hot rolls clasped to her indignant bosom.
“Well I never! Of all the impertinence! I have always been taking new neighbors some little friendly offering. To think of this heathen Chinese speaking to me in that way!” She stalked home and was so wrought up and indignant she forgot to take off her bonnet.
As for the Chinaman, he laughed until his queue bounced up and down like a bell rope. The blind gentleman, who had overheard his reply to the would-be friendly neighbor, laughed also and the son seemed to be equally amused.
“The only thing is I wish you had taken in the rolls. I must say I should have liked a taste of good homemade bread. Yours is atrocious, Wink Lee.”