"In thy sight
Is my delight."
Maria-Ann shut her eyes and leaned back in her chair. "Don't seems as if he 'd sent me that if he had n't meant somethin'," she murmured, and dreamed for a little while. Then she opened her eyes, prepared for new delights. Raising the gilt top with tender care, she took out a faded rose:
"Don't seem as if he 'd come back that nex' mornin' after Chris'mus an' give me that, 'thout he 'd had some notion." She laid the rose carefully upon the tissue paper, and began to lift the leaves of the heart-shaped book, until she had lifted every one of the three hundred and sixty-five! She smiled to herself.
"'T ain't likely he 'd 'a' sent me jest such a cook-book, 'thout he 'd been tryin' to give me a hint." She began to read the recipes--it was absorbing: puddings, cakes, preserves. She was lost to time as she read; "An' he took that pair of socks I knit him last Chris'mus 'long with him, Rose said--" There was a fumbling at her door. Maria-Arm blew out the light.
"That you, grandmarm?" she called pleasantly.
There was no answer, and Maria-Ann laughed softly to herself as she undressed in the dark, and lay down to sweet dreams.
"I 'm goin' over to Mis' Blossom's, grandmarm," she announced the next afternoon, "to see if they 've had any news. I ain't heard for two days."
Her grandmother made no reply, but when her grand-daughter was well on her way to the Blossoms', Mrs. Tryphosa Little's conscience deemed it prudent to issue a private search-warrant and investigate Maria-Ann's premises--even to the under side of the feather-bed. The results perfectly justified the search, and upon Maria-Ann's return just before tea, she was amazed to have her grandmother offer her a wrinkled cheek to kiss.
"Why, grandmarm!" exclaimed Maria-Ann, in joyful surprise, "I 'm so glad you ain't laid it up against me--
"I can see through a barn-door when 't is wide open, even at my time of life, Maria-Ann Simmons," said the old dame, interrupting her.