Morris did not see the sunshine then upon the distant hills, although it lay there just as purple as before Katy came, bringing blackness and pain when heretofore she had only brought him joy and gladness. There was a moment of darkness, in which the hills, the pond, the sun setting, and Katy seemed a great ways off to Morris, trying so hard to be calm, and mentally asking for help to do so. But Katy's hat, which she swung in her hand, had become entangled in the vines encircling one of the pillars of the piazza, and so she did not notice him until all traces of his agitation were past, and he could talk with her concerning Wilford, and then playfully lifting her basket he asked what she had come to get.
This was not the first time the great house had rendered a like service to the little house, and so Katy did not blush when she explained how her mother wanted Morris' forks, and saltcellars, and spoons, and would he be kind enough to bring the castor over himself, and come to dinner to-morrow at two o'clock?--and would he go after Mr. Cameron? The forks, and saltcellars, and spoons, and castor were cheerfully promised, while Morris consented to go for the guest; and then Katy came to the rest of her errand, the part distasteful to her, inasmuch as it might look like throwing disrespect upon Uncle Ephraim--honest, unsophisticated Uncle Ephraim--who would come to the table in his shirt sleeves. This was the burden of her grief--the one thing she dreaded most, inasmuch as she knew by experience how such an act was looked upon by Mr. Cameron, who, never having lived in the country a day in his life, except as he was either guest or traveler, could not make due allowance for these little departures from refinement, so obnoxious to people of his training.
"What is it, Katy?" Morris asked, as he saw how she hesitated, and guessed her errand was not done.
"I hope you will not think me foolish or wicked," Katy began, her eyes filling with tears, as she felt that she might be doing Uncle Ephraim a wrong by even admitting that in any way he could be improved. "I certainly love Uncle Ephraim dearly, and I do not mind his ways, but Mr. Cameron may--that is, oh, Cousin Morris! did you ever notice how Uncle Ephraim will persist in coming to the table in his shirt sleeves."
"Persist is hardly the word to use," Morris replied, smiling comically, as he readily understood Katy's misgivings. "Persist would imply his having been often remonstrated with for that breach of etiquette; whereas I doubt much whether the idea that it was not in strict accordance with politeness was ever suggested to him."