“What is it, Katy?” Morris asked, as he saw how she hesitated, and guessed her errand was not all told.
“I hope you will not think me foolish or wicked,” Katy began, her eyes filling with tears, as she felt that she might be doing Uncle Ephraim a wrong by admitting that in any way he could be improved. “I certainly love Uncle Ephraim dearly, and I do not mind his ways, but—but—Mr. Cameron may—that is, oh, Cousin Morris, did you ever notice how Uncle Ephraim will persist in coming to the table in his shirt sleeves?”
“Persist is hardly the word to use,” Morris replied, smiling comically, as he readily understood Katy’s misgivings. “Persist would imply his having been often remonstrated with for that breach of etiquette; whereas I doubt whether the idea that it was not in strict accordance with politeness was ever suggested to him.”
“Maybe not,” Katy answered. “It was never necessary till now, and I feel so disturbed, for I want Mr. Cameron to like him, and if he does that I am sure he won’t.”
“Why do you think so?” Morris asked, and Katy replied, “He is so particular, and was so very angry at a little hotel between Lakes George and Champlain, where we took our dinner before going on the boat. There was a man along—a real good-natured man, too, so kind to everybody—and, as the day was warm, he carried his coat on his arm, and sat down to the table right opposite me. Mr. Cameron was so indignant, and said such harsh things, which the man heard I am sure, for he put on his coat directly, and I saw him afterward on the boat, sweating like rain, and looking so sorry, as if he had been guilty of something wrong. I am sure, though, he had not?”
This last was spoken interrogatively, and Morris replied: “There is nothing wrong or wicked in going without one’s coat. Everything depends upon the circumstances under which it is done. For me to appear at table in my shirt sleeves would be very rude, but for an old man like Uncle Ephraim to do so is a very different thing. Still, Mr. Cameron may see from another standpoint. But I would not distress myself. That love is not worth much which would think the less of you for anything outré which Uncle Ephraim may do. If Mr. Cameron cannot stand the test of seeing your relatives as they are, he is not worth the long face you are wearing,” and Morris pinched her cheek playfully.
“Yes, I know,” Katy replied, “but if you only could manage Uncle Eph, I should be so glad.”
Morris had little hope of breaking a habit of years, but he promised to try if an opportunity should occur, and as Mrs. Hull, the housekeeper, had by this time gathered up the articles required for the morrow, Morris took the basket in his own hands and went with Katy across the fields.
“God bless you, Katy, and may Mr. Cameron’s visit bring you as much happiness as you anticipate,” he said, as he set her basket upon the doorstep and turned back without entering the house.
Katy noticed the peculiar tone of his voice, and again there swept over her the same thrill she had felt when Morris first said to her, “And did Katy like this Mr. Cameron?” but so far was she from guessing the truth that she only feared she might have displeased him by what she had said of Uncle Ephraim. Perhaps she had wronged him, she thought, and the good old man, resting from his hard day’s toil, in his accustomed chair, with not only his coat, but his vest and boots cast aside, little guessed what prompted the caresses which Katy lavished upon him, sitting in his lap and parting his snowy hair, as if thus she would make amends for any injury done. Little Katy-did he called her, looking fondly into her bright, pretty face, and thinking how terrible it would be to see that face shadowed with pain and care. Somehow, of late, Uncle Ephraim was always thinking of such a calamity as more than possible for Katy, and when that night she knelt beside him, his voice was full of pleading earnestness as he prayed that God would keep them all in safety, and bring to none of them more grief or pain than was necessary to fit them for himself. And Katy, listening to him, remembered the talk down in the meadow, when she sat on the rock beneath the butternut tree. But the world, while it held Wilford Cameron, as he seemed to her now, was too full of joy for her to dread what the future might have in store for her, and so she arose from her knees, thinking only how long it would be before to-morrow noon, wondering if Wilford would surely be there next time their evening prayers were said, and if he would notice Uncle Ephraim’s shocking grammar!