“Never you mind what the squire told me to do, I just want to see what kind o’ judgment you will show in your selection,” Mrs. Kimberly responded, with a knowing air.
Clifford examined the various slips in silence for several moments, and finally separated two from the others.
“This is a pretty style of goods,” he remarked, holding up one of them, “but rather light, perhaps, for fall and to be serviceable; the other mixed goods I like almost as well.”
“Yes, and it’s a better cloth, too—the best in the lot,” interposed his companion; “it’s close and firm, and would do you good service.”
“Well, then, if I am allowed to choose, I’ll take it,” said Clifford; “and, yes, on the whole, I believe I shall like it better than the other.”
“All right,” observed Maria, hastily gathering up the samples and returning them to their wrapper as she caught the sound of a latch-key in the front door. She slipped them back into her pocket.
Later, when she was serving the squire at his solitary meal, she laid the package from the tailor before him, curtly remarking:
“Here’s somethin’ a boy brought for you this afternoon.”
The squire removed the wrapper and examined its contents. Finally separating two of the samples from the others, he laid them beside his plate, and tossed the remainder into a waste-basket that stood under a desk behind him, and the sharp eyes of Maria Kimberly observed that one of the selected samples was the very piece which Clifford had chosen, while the other was the coarsest, ugliest goods among the lot.
“Goin’ to have a new suit, squire?” she briefly inquired, with a curious gleam in her eyes.