"I can tell you what she'll want a sight more," said Mr. Van Brunt, who had followed her in — it must have been to see about Ellen, for he was never known to do such a thing before or since — "I'll tell you what she'll want, and that's a right hot supper. She's ate as nigh as possible nothing at all this noon. There ain't much danger of her dancing a hole in your floor this some time." CHAPTER XXIV. Sweeping and dusting. Great preparations were making all Saturday and Monday for the expected gathering. From morning till night Miss Fortune was in a perpetual bustle. The great oven was heated no less than three several times on Saturday alone. Ellen could hear the breaking of eggs in the buttery, and the sound of beating or whisking, for a long time together; and then Miss Fortune would come out with floury hands, and plates of empty egg- shells made their appearance. But Ellen saw no more. Whenever the coals were swept out of the oven, and Miss Fortune had made sure that the heat was just right for her purposes, Ellen was sent out of the way, and when she got back there was nothing to be seen but the fast-shut oven door. It was just the same when the dishes, in all their perfection, were to come out of the oven again. The utmost Ellen was permitted to see was the napkin covering some stray cake or pie that by chance had to pass through the kitchen where she was. As she could neither help nor look on, the day passed rather wearily. She tried studying; a very little, she found, was enough to satisfy both mind and body in their present state. She longed to go out again and see how the snow looked, but a fierce wind all the fore part of the day made it unfit for her. Towards the middle of the afternoon she saw with joy that it had lulled, and, though very cold, was so bright and calm, that she might venture. She had eagerly opened the kitchen door to go up and get ready, when a long weary yawn from her old grandmother made her look back. The old lady had laid her knitting in her lap, and bent her face down to her hand, which she was rubbing across her brow, as if to clear away the tired feeling that had settled there. Ellen's conscience immediately brought up Alice's words — "Can't you do something to pass away a tedious hour now and then?" The first feeling was of vexed regret that they should have come into her head at that moment; then conscience said that was very selfish. There was a struggle. Ellen stood with the door in her hand, unable to go out or come in. But not long. As the words came back upon her memory — "A charge to keep I have" — her mind was made up; after one moment's prayer for help and forgiveness, she shut the door, came back to the fireplace, and spoke in a cheerful tone — "Grandma, wouldn't you like to have me read something to you?" "Read!" answered the old lady — "laws a me! _I_ don't read nothing, deary." "But wouldn't you like to have _me_ read to you, Grandma?"