There were visits of kindness as well as visits of officiousness. Alice and Mrs. Van Brunt and Margery, one or the other every day. Margery would come in and mix up a batch of bread; Alice would bring a bowl of butter or a basket of cake; and Mrs. Van Brunt sent whole dinners. Mr. Van Brunt was there always at night, and about the place as much as possible during the day; when obliged to be absent, he stationed Sam Larkens to guard the house, also to bring wood and water, and do whatever he was bid. All the help, however, that was given from abroad could not make Ellen's life an easy one; Mr. Van Brunt's wishes that Miss Fortune would get up again began to come very often. The history of one day may serve for the history of all those weeks. It was in the beginning of April. Ellen came downstairs early, but come when she would, she found the fire made and the kettle on. Ellen felt a little as if she had not quite slept off the remembrance of yesterday's fatigue; however, that was no matter, she set to work. She swept up the kitchen, got her milk-strainer and pans ready upon the buttery shelf, and began to set the table. By the time this was half done, in came Sam Larkens with two great pails of milk, and Johnny Low followed with another. They were much too heavy for Ellen to lift, but true to her charge, she let no one come into the buttery but herself; she brought the pans to the door, where Sam filled them for her, and as each was done she set it in its place on the shelf. This took some time, for there were eight of them. She had scarce wiped up the spilt milk and finished setting the table, when Mr. Van Brunt came in. "Good morning!" said he. "How d'ye do to-day?" "Very well, Mr. Van Brunt." "I wish you'd look a little redder in the face. Don't you be too busy. Where's Nancy?" "Oh, she's busy, out with the clothes." "Same as ever upstairs? — What are you going to do for breakfast, Ellen?" "I don't know, Mr. Van Brunt; there isn't anything cooked in the house; we have eaten everything up." "Cleaned out, eh? Bread and all?" "Oh, no, not bread; there's plenty of that, but there's nothing else." "Well never mind; — you bring me a ham and a dozen of eggs, and I'll make you a first-rate breakfast." Ellen laughed, for this was not the first time Mr. Van Brunt had acted as cook for the family. While she got what he had asked for, and bared a place on the table for his operations, he went to the spout and washed his hands. "Now, a sharp knife, Ellen, and the frying-pan and a dish — and that's all I want of you."