As the two men walked away, Asaph thought that he was not acting an unfraternal part toward Marietta, for it would not be necessary for him to say or do anything to induce her to refuse so unsuitable a suitor as Thomas Rooper.
About fifteen minutes before dinner—which had been cooked with bits of wood which Betsey had picked up here and there—was ready, Asaph walked into the front yard of his sister’s house attired in a complete suit of new clothes, thick and substantial in texture, pepper-and-salt in color, and as long in the legs and arms as the most fastidious could desire. He had on a new shirt and a clean collar, with a handsome black silk cravat tied in a great bow; and a new felt hat was on his head. On his left arm he carried an overcoat, carefully folded, with the lining outside, and in his right hand an umbrella and a cane. In his pockets were half a dozen new handkerchiefs and the case containing Mr. Rooper’s Centennial meerschaum.
Marietta, who was in the hallway when he opened the front door, scarcely knew him as he approached.
“Asaph!” she exclaimed. “What has happened to you? Why, you actually look like a gentleman!”
Asaph grinned. “Do you want me to go to Drummondville right after breakfast to-morrow?” he asked.
“My dear brother,” said Marietta, “don’t crush me by talking about that. But if you could have seen yourself as I saw you, and could have felt as I felt, you would not wonder at me. You must forget all that. I should be proud now to introduce you as my brother to any doctor or king or president. But tell me how you got those beautiful clothes.”
Asaph was sometimes beset by an absurd regard for truth, which much annoyed him. He could not say that he had worked for the clothes, and he did not wish his sister to think that he had run in debt for them. “They’re paid for, every thread of ’em,” he said. “I got ’em in trade. These things is mine, and I don’t owe no man a cent for ’em; and it seems to me that dinner must be ready.”
“And proud I am,” said Marietta, who never before had shown such enthusiastic affection for her brother, “to sit down to the table with such a nice-looking fellow as you are.”
The next morning Mr. Rooper came into Mrs. Himes’s yard, and there beheld Asaph, in all the glory of his new clothes, sitting under the chestnut-tree smoking the Centennial meerschaum pipe. Mr. Rooper himself was dressed in his very best clothes, but he carried with him no pipe.
“Sit down,” said Asaph, “and have a smoke.”