Henry had returned with golden-brown baked apples, swimming in thick syrup.
“Henry,” Freeland said, “step out back and fetch in that new boy.” Henry’s eyes widened, but he did not move. “Run along! You’ll see him.”
Henry disappeared, moving faster than was his wont. Freeland smiled at his mother.
“I took on a new boy this morning. You’ll like him.”
Mrs. Freeland was incredulous. “You bought a boy this morning?”
“I’m hiring this fellow from a peckawood over at St. Michaels.” His mother’s sniff was audible. “But he’s really one of Colonel Lloyd’s people.”
“Oh! That’s different. Should be good stock.”
“Unquestionably. I’d like to buy him.”
The old lady’s eyes had grown reminiscent. She shook her head.
“I wonder if that fine old place is going to pieces. How sad that the Colonel died without a son.”