"'For Aunt Tryphosa from Budd Blossom to make her fires quick with cold mornings.' Did you ever?" said Maria-Ann, untying another large burlap bundle--"What's this? 'Made by Rose Blossom and Hazel Clyde to keep Aunt Tryphosa snug and warm o' nights when the mercury is below zero.' O grandmarm, look at this!"
Maria-Ann unrolled a coverlet made of silk patch-work (bright bits and pieces that Hazel had begged of Aunt Carrie and Mrs. Heath and others of her New York friends) lined with thin flannel and filled with feathers.
But Aunt Tryphosa was speechless for the first time in her life; and, seeing this, Maria-Ann took advantage of it to do a little talking on her own account.
"She don't seem like a city girl in her ways; she ain't a bit stuck up--Oh, what's this!" She poked, and fingered, and pinched, but failed to guess. Aunt Tryphosa grew impatient.
"Let me see, you 've done nothin' but feel," she said, reaching for the package, and Maria-Ann handed it over to her.
Again Mrs. Tryphosa Little was nearly dumb, as the miscellaneous contents of the queer, knobby parcel were brought to light.
"These are for you, Maria-Ann," she said in an awed voice, laying them on the kitchen table one after the other:--A copy of the Woman's Hearthstone Journal, with the receipt for a year's subscription pinned to it;--A small shirt waist ironing-board;--A pair of fleece-lined Arctics that buttoned half-way up Maria-Ann's sturdy legs when, an hour later, she tried them on;--Six paper-covered novels of the Chimney Corner Library including Lorna Doone (Hazel had discovered in her frequent visits, that Aunt Tryphosa's granddaughter at twenty-nine was as romantic as a girl of seventeen);--A box of preserved ginger;--Two pounds of Old Hyson Tea;--(upon which Maria-Ann bounced up from the floor, and without more ado made two cups, much to her grandmother's amazement);--Six pounds of lump sugar;---A dozen lemons;--A dozen oranges;--A white Liberty-silk scarf tucked into an envelope;--Six ounces of scarlet knitting-wool;--All for "Miss Maria-Ann Simmons, with Hazel Clyde's best wishes."
Then it was Maria-Ann Simmons's turn to break down and weep, at which Aunt Tryphosa fidgeted, for she had not seen her granddaughter cry since she was a little girl.
"Don't act like a fool, Maria-Ann," she said, crustily, to hide her own feelings; "take your things an' enjoy 'em. I 've seen tears enough for night before Chris'mus," she added, ignoring the fact that she had established a precedent.
"Well, I won't, grandmarm," said her granddaughter, laughing and crying at the same time; "but I 'm goin' to have that cup of tea first to kind of strengthen me 'fore I open the rest," she added decidedly. "Besides, I don't want to see everything at once; I want it to last."