“One that Mrs. Dodd, where he lodges, have made a present of to us for dinner, Master Johnny. Roper was to ha’ brought it in to-night ready. It won’t look well to see him carrying of a baked-pie on a Sunday morning, when he’ve got on his wedding-coat. I can’t think where he have got to!”
At this moment, some one was seen moving towards us across the field path. It proved to be Mary Standish: her gown turned up over her head, and a pie in her hands the size of a pulpit cushion. Red syrup was running down the outside of the dish, and the crust looked a little black at the edges.
“My, what a big beauty!” exclaimed Grizzel.
“Do take it, Grizzel, for my hands be all cramped with its weight,” said Mrs. Standish: who, as it turned out, had been over to Roper’s lodgings, a mile and a half away, with a view to seeing what had become of the bridegroom elect. And she nearly threw the pie into Grizzel’s arms, and took down her gown.
“And what do Roper say?” asked Grizzel. “And why have he not been here?”
“Roper’s not at home,” said Mary Standish. “He come in from work about six; washed and put hisself to rights a bit, and then went out with a big bundle. Mrs. Dodd called after him to bring the pie, but he called back again that the pie might wait.”
“What was in the bundle?” questioned Grizzel, resenting the slight shown to the pie.
“Well, by the looks on’t, Mother Dodd thought ’twas his working clothes packed up,” replied Mary Standish.
“His working clothes!” cried Grizzel.
“A going to take ’em to the tailor’s, maybe, to get ’em done up. And not afore they wanted it.”