Perhaps he figgers that patches are good as anything else, long's they
don't show. Imogene, go tell him Melindy didn't fetch 'em."
Imogene went and returned with her grin broader than ever.
"He says she did bring 'em," she announced. "Says she always brings him
his things on the ninth. He's pretty peppery this mornin', seems to me.
Says he don't cal'late to stand there and freeze much longer."
"Freeze! Why, it's the warmest day we've had for a fortni't. The sun's
come out and it's cleared up fine, like Indian summer. Oh, DO be still!"
as another shout for "Mrs. Barnes" came from above. "Here, never mind,
Imogene; I'll tell him."
She went into the front hall and called up the stairs.
"Your things ain't here, Mr. Hammond," she said. "Melindy didn't bring
'em. She's laid up with a cold and probably couldn't get 'em ready."
"Course she's got 'em ready! She always has 'em ready. She knows I want
'em."
"Maybe so, but she ain't always sick, 'tain't likely. They ain't here,
anyway. You won't need 'em today."
"Need 'em? Course I need 'em. It's colder than Christmas."
"No, it isn't. It's almost as warm as September. Put on two suits of
your others, if you're so cold. And come down to breakfast as soon as
you can. We've all had ours."
When Mr. Hammond did come down to breakfast his manner was that of a
martyr. The breakfast itself, baked beans and fishballs, did not appeal
to him, and he ate little. He grumbled as he drank his coffee.
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