"Sho! now what a way that is to talk! Why, s'pose I hadn't come home at all; s'pose I'd stopped to supper, as they asked me to; you'd have saved victuals then, don't you see? I wish't I had now!" he added reflectively. "I never thought of her cookin' anything special."
"Supper's ready!" sighed Miss Phrony from the doorway.
In the kitchen a cloth, not too clean, was laid, and on it, with much parade of knife and fork, appeared a very dry knuckle of ham, a plate of yellow soda biscuit, and a pallid and flabby pie. Spite of himself, Calvin's cheery face fell as he looked on this banquet; but he sat down, and attacked the ham-bone manfully.
"How are ye, old feller?" he said. "I certinly thought I'd seen the last of you, but you come of a long-lived stock, that's plain. Could I have a drop of tea, Miss Phrony? Seems' though something hot would help this spread on its downward way. Fire out? Well, never mind! I'll get along."
"I had the spasms come on so bad," said Miss Phrony, "along about eight o'clock, when I give you up, my stren'th went from me, and I couldn't heave the wood to keep the fire up. I had coffee for you, but it's cold. Would you like some?"
"I guess not!" said Calvin, recalling the coffee at breakfast. "I'll do first-rate. Well! did you try on your tippet, what? real becomin', was it?"
Miss Phrony's face softened, and she gave him a languishing glance—with one eye, the other trying to see what it was like, with little success.
"'Tis elegant!" she said. "'Tis the handsomest ever I saw. I've put it away—for the future!"
"Sho!" said Calvin. "You don't want to do that. You want to wear it to meetin' next Sunday, Miss Phrony. Any one oughtn't to wait too long to look handsome, you know, fear they mightn't get round to it."