Now, when she saw the tailor’s boy at the door with the package in his hands, she instantly surmised the nature of his errand, for she had overheard some of the conversation regarding the “freedom suit.”
Always feeling herself a privileged person in the house, and being especially interested in this matter, she calmly unfolded the parcel and proceeded to examine its contents.
“H’m,” she breathed, after adjusting her glasses and testing the quality of the various samples, “some of ’em are fair to middlin’, and some of ’em you could shoot peas through; of course, he will buy the cheapest suit for him; he won’t give the boy a decent suit if he can help it. I’ve half a mind to show ’em to Cliff and see what’d be his choice.”
She stood a moment considering the matter, then she deliberately slipped the package into her pocket and returned to the kitchen, where she had been busy getting supper when the bell had interrupted her operations.
A few minutes later Clifford came in from the shed, bringing a huge armful of wood, which he packed neatly in the wood-box behind the stove, taking care to make no litter to offend Mrs. Kimberly’s keen eyes, for the woman was neatness personified, and would not tolerate the slightest disorder in her immaculate domains.
“My, how good those biscuits smell!” the youth observed appreciatively, as Maria opened the oven door to take a look at the snowy puffs inside.
“Wait till you get a nibble at ’em,” said the woman, with a satisfied nod of her head; “and I’ve got a turnover for you, too. I had some apple and a little dough left over when I was makin’ the pies this mornin’,” she added, lifting a kindly look to his face.
“Then you should call it a leftover instead of a turnover,” said Clifford, laughing. “You are always doing something nice for me, Maria. I’m afraid you have spoiled me with your dainties, and I shall miss them when I go to Cambridge, and have to be satisfied with what I can get in some third-rate boarding-house.”
“There ain’t no fear that anybody’ll ever spoil you,” returned Maria, with significant emphasis; “but I own I am consarned about your digestion bein’ spoiled by the poor cookin’ in them dreadful boardin’-houses. But come here,” she continued, drawing him to a window and taking something from her pocket with a mysterious air, “if you were goin’ to have a new suit which o’ these pieces of cloth would you choose?”
“Ah! some samples!” exclaimed the boy, an eager look on his face. “Did the squire tell you to show them to me?”