Peter presented the parcel under his arm. It was a box of candy, and very heavy, on which much thought had been spent.
"They are some of the things you like," he said, when he had returned from putting it in the berth.
"How good of you, Peter! I shall never be able to eat all that."
"I hope there is a doctor on the train," said Uncle Tom.
"Yassah," answered the black porter, who had been listening with evident relish, "right good doctah—Doctah Lov'ring."
Even Aunt Mary laughed.
"Peter," asked Honora, "can't you get Judge Brice to send you on to New York this winter on law business? Then you could come up to Sutcliffe to see me."
"I'm afraid of Miss Turner," declared Peter.
"Oh, she wouldn't mind you," exclaimed Honora. "I could say you were an uncle. It would be almost true. And perhaps she would let you take me down to New York for a matinee."
"And how about my ready-made clothes?" he said, looking down at her. He had never forgotten that.