Chapter II

The plate of hot biscuit was placed in the midst of the profusion of fancy eatables with which the table was crowded. The minister and his family were duly seated, and the ceremony was proceeding decently and in order.

Mrs. Somes had not wholly recovered from the excitement of the interview in the kitchen, and her hand trembled slightly as she handed Mrs. Meeklie her tea. Mr. Somes had donned his best blue coat, with brass buttons, which had done duty as a Sunday garment for the past fifteen years.

He seemed to be somewhat uneasy; and though he and the minister had always been on the best of terms, his answers were too short and crusty for a courteous host.

“Won’t you pass the biscuit to Mrs. Meeklie, husband?” said Mrs. Somes, with her sweetest smile, albeit not very sweet at that.

Mr. Somes did pass the biscuit to Mrs. Meeklie, and she took one; but when he passed them to Mr. Meeklie, he smilingly declined.

“No, I thank you, Mr. Somes; I never eat hot bread. It does not agree with me,” said he.

Mrs. Somes passed the cold bread, thinking all the time how very uncivil it was in the parson to refuse the hot biscuit she had taken so much pains to prepare.

But Mr. Meeklie was very respectful to his stomach; for he found, when insulted and imposed upon, that it was tyrannical and disagreeable; and he paid more deference to his digestive organs than he did to the feelings of his vain parishioners.

“My biscuit are not very nice; I did not have as good luck as I generally do,” suggested Mrs. Somes, as Mrs. Meeklie took a second cake.

“Better,” interposed Mr. Somes.

The lady looked at him with very evident marks of displeasure.

“They are very nice,” said the parson’s wife.

“Take a little more of this quince preserve, Miss Meeklie. I dare say it is not so nice as your mother makes; but the truth is——”

“It has stood too long,” interrupted Mr. Somes. “The jar has not been opened since you were here last fall.”

Mrs. Somes looked daggers; but the parson very considerately asked Mr. Somes whether he had done planting just at that moment, and her anger evaporated without any unpleasant effects.

“Husband, won’t you pass that cake to Mr. Meeklie?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Somes; I never eat cake. Your bread is very good; I will thank you for some more.”

“Really, Mr. Meeklie, you will take some of this cake? It is not very rich; there is very little butter in it.”

“Not any, I thank you; I never eat cake, unless it be something very simple, such as gingerbread or molasses cake.”

What a calamity! Four kinds of cake and the parson wouldn’t touch one of them!

“But you will take some of these jumbles; I made them on purpose for you.”

“That’s a fact, Mr. Meeklie,” added Mr. Somes, maliciously.

He would further have added that his wife never made pies and cakes for her own family; but he was afraid of frightening the parson.

“You must excuse me. I doubt not they are very nice; but I have to be careful.”

Mrs. Meeklie and her two grown-up daughters were more courteous, and each nibbled a small bit of the rich pound cake; but they seemed to do it against their consciences, and against their better judgment.

The truth was, they felt embarrassed by the extraordinary display Mrs. Somes had made. They did not feel at home. The whole affair was too set and artificial to be enjoyed, and at an early hour the whole party withdrew, mentally determining to make it a long time before they took tea with Mrs. Somes again.