Inside, his
wife came forward with her well-remembered sunny smile, and in a trice
Matthew Kendrick and his grandson found themselves sitting in front of a
blazing fire upon a wide hearth, receiving every evidence that their
presence brought delight.
Richard looked on with inward amusement and satisfaction at the unwonted
sight of his grandfather partaking of a cup of steaming coffee rich with
country cream, and eating with the appetite of a boy a huge,
sugar-coated doughnut which his hostess assured him could not possibly
hurt him.
"They're the real old-fashioned kind, Mr. Kendrick," said she. "Raised
like bread, you know, and fried in lard we make ourselves in a way I
have so that not a bit of grease gets inside. My husband thinks they're
the only fit food to go with coffee."
"They are the most delicious food I ever ate, certainly, Madam Gray, and
I find myself agreeing with him, now that I taste them," declared Mr.
Kendrick, and Richard, disposing with zest of a particularly huge, light
specimen of Mrs. Gray's art, seconded his grandfather's appreciation.
They made a long call, Mr. Kendrick appearing to enjoy himself as
Richard could not remember seeing him do before.
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