Maxwell examined carefully the square of cross-stitch wool embroidery, biting his lip; while Hepsey watched him narrowly, chuckling quietly to herself. Then she laughed heartily, and asked:
“Confess now; don’t you think it’s beautiful?”
Donald smiled broadly as he replied:
“It’s really quite wonderful. Did you do it yourself?”
“To be sure I did, when I was a little girl and we used to work in wool from samplers, and learn to do alphabets. I’m glad you appreciate it. If you would like to have me embroider anything for the church, don’t hesitate to ask me.” She busied herself examining the stoles again, and asked:
“How much did these things cost, if you don’t mind my askin’?”
“I don’t know. They were given to me by a friend of mine, when I graduated from the Seminary.”
“Hm! a friend of yours, eh? She must think an awful lot of you.”
Hepsey gave Donald a sharp glance.
“I didn’t say it was a lady.”