The morning post brought a letter from Aunt Caroline enclosing a list of foods which she wished Mr. Noakes to stock. Templeton read it solemnly, and handed it to Eves.
"I say, Mrs. Trenchard, what do you think of this?" cried Eves. "Things Bob's aunt is going to lecture about, you know. Haricot beans——"
"They want a deal of cooking, Mr. Eves," said Mrs. Trenchard. "You must soak 'em overnight, and boil 'em hours and hours. I have my doubts whether the village folk can spare the time."
"Well, here's dried peas."
"Do 'ee think the women 'll use 'em dried when the shucks are full of green? What can Miss Caroline be thinking of?"
"Tinned eggs, then."
"Lawk-a-mussy, I was silly enough to buy one o' they tins once, and when I opened it—there now, never in my life did I come so near fainting afore, and me not a fainting sort, the smell was so terrible. If that be the kind of thing Miss Caroline's cook do give her, 'tis time I was back in my old place, that it be."
Eves laughed as he handed the list back to Templeton.
"There are a dozen more things," he said; "if they're all as good, old man, Aunt Caroline will get a shock when she's heckled."
"Bless 'ee, sir, and who'll be so bold?" said Mrs. Trenchard. "Folks 'll listen, ay sure, as meek as lambs; but buy them things—never in the world."