"'A MONEYLESS man,'" said Uncle Rod, "'goes quickly through the market.'"
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."
"Not till to-night--people can see us from the road."
"You choose then." It was a game that they had played ever since she had come to him. It gave to each meal the atmosphere of an adventure.
"I choose," she clapped her hands, "I choose--by the fish-pond, Uncle Rod."
The fish-pond was at the end of the garden walk. Just beyond it a wooden gate connected a high brick wall and opened upon an acre or two of pasture where certain cows browsed luxuriously. The brick wall and the cows and the quiet of the corner made the fish-pond seem miles away from the town street which was faced by the front of Cousin Margaret's house.
The fish-pond was a favorite choice in the game played by Anne and Uncle Rod. But they did not always choose it because that would have made it commonplace and would have robbed it of its charm.
Anne, rising to arrange the tray, was stopped by Uncle Rodman. "Sit still, my dear; I'll get things ready."
To see him at his housekeeping was a pleasant sight. He liked it, and gave to it his whole mind. The peeling of the peaches with a silver knife, the selection of a bowl of old English ware to put them in, and making of the coffee in a copper machine, the fresh linen, the roses as a last perfect touch.
Anne carried the tray, for his weak arm could not be depended upon; and by the fish-pond they ate their simple meal.
The old fishes had crumbs and came to the top of the water to get them, and a cow looking over the gate was rewarded by the remaining half of the crusty roll. She walked away presently to give place to a slender youth who had crossed the fields and now stood with his hat off looking in.