"Is it really imperative that you have a regular dinner to-day? Could you not take something easily prepared, a cup of tea, for instance, and some cold meats, and the like?"
"You propose a genuine funeral repast. Is anything about to happen?"
"Our Christmas tree; and our entire household is eager to go, yourself excepted."
"Why can't we all go?" Mr. Bovyer suggested, with considerable eagerness.
Mr. Winthrop looked aghast.
"They would think on the Mill Road the millennium was dawning if Mr. Winthrop were to step down among them," I said.
"Then by all means let us foster the illusion."
"I will take the baked meats, Medoline, or a cracker and cheese—anything rather than that crowd."
"That is ever so kind. I will come home to brew you a cup of tea myself. Ever since I was a child I have wanted to prepare a meal all alone—it will be really better than the Christmas tree; I mean more enjoyable."
"You have the greatest capacity for simple pleasures of any one I ever knew. We shall accept your services. Before you are through, you may find the task not so enjoyable as you think; but at the very worst we will give our help."