"
Marilla went off crestfallen and demurring. She had a noble desire to
show Mr. Laneway that they knew how to have things as well as
anybody, and was sure that he would consider it more polite to be
asked into the best room, and to sit there alone until tea was ready;
but the illustrious Mr. Laneway was allowed to stay in the kitchen, in
apparent happiness, and to watch the proceedings from beginning to
end. The two old friends talked industriously, but he saw his rye
drop-cakes go into the oven and come out, and his tea made, and his
piece of salt fish broiled and buttered, a broad piece of honeycomb
set on to match some delightful thick slices of brown-crusted loaf
bread, and all the simple feast prepared. There was a sufficient piece
of Abby Hender's best cheese; it must be confessed that there were
also some baked beans, and, as one thing after another appeared, the
Honorable Joseph K. Laneway grew hungrier and hungrier, until he
fairly looked pale with anticipation and delay, and was bidden at that
very moment to draw up his chair and make himself a supper if he
could. What cups of tea, what uncounted rye drop-cakes, went to the
making of that successful supper! How gay the two old friends became,
and of what old stories they reminded each other, and how late the
dark spring evening grew, before the feast was over and the
straight-backed chairs were set against the kitchen wall!
Marilla listened for a time with more or less interest, but at last
she took one of her school-books, with slight ostentation, and went
over to study by the lamp.
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