He had a basket on his arm. Anne, who was at her easel, looked up. "What did you buy?"
He laughed. His laugh had in it a quality of youth which seemed to contradict the signs of age which were upon him. Yet even these signs were modified by the carefulness of his attire and the distinction of his carriage. Great-uncle Rodman had been a dandy in his day, and even now his Norfolk coat and knickerbockers, his long divided beard and flowing tie gave him an air half foreign, wholly his own.
In his basket was a melon, crusty rolls, peaches and a bottle of cream.
"Such extravagance!" Anne said, as he showed her the bottle.
"It was the price of two chops. And not a lamb the less for it. Two chops would have been an extravagance, and now we shall feast innocently and economically."
"Where shall we eat?" Anne asked.
She shook her head. "Too sunny."
"In the garden?"
"Not till to-night—people can see us from the road."