"No" said Winthrop. "But you may help me in with the trunk."
Michael was satisfied that he had the right money, and departed; and Winthrop followed Mr. Forriner through a narrow entry cut off from the store, to a little back room, which was the first of the domestic premises. Here stood a table, and Mrs. Forriner; a hard-featured lady, in a muslin cap likewise hard-featured; there was a "not-give-in" look, very marked, in both, cap and lady. A look that Winthrop recognized at once, and which her husband seemed to have recognized a great while.
"Mrs. Forriner!" said that gentleman to his nephew. "My dear, this is Cousin Winthrop Landholm — Orphah's son."
"How do you do, sir?" said Mrs. Forriner's eyes and cap; her tongue moved not.
"Just come in town," pursued her husband; "and has come to take breakfast with us."
"Have you come in to stay, cousin? or are you going back again to the North?"
"I am not going back at present — I am going to stay," said
Winthrop.
The lady was standing up, waiting the instant arrival of breakfast, or not enough at ease in her mind to sit down. The table and room and furniture, though plain enough and even mean in their character, had notwithstanding a sufficient look of homely comfort.
"You didn't like it up there where you were?" she went on, changing the places of things on the table with a dissatisfied air.
"Up where, ma'am?"