Christian life -- Fiction; Conduct of life -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"Well, now, to change the subject--at what o'clock did you dine to-day?"
"I don't know, ma'am--at the same time we always do, I believe."
"And that is twelve o'clock, isn't it?"
"Yes, ma'am; but I was so full of coming here and other things that I
couldn't eat."
"Then I suppose you would have no objection to an early tea?"
"No, ma'am--whenever you please," said Ellen, laughing.
"I shall please it pretty soon. I have had no dinner at all to-day,
Ellen; I have been out and about all the morning, and had just taken a
little nap when you came in. Come this way and let me show you some of
my housekeeping."
She led the way across the hall to the room on the opposite side--a
large, well-appointed, and spotlessly-neat kitchen. Ellen could not help
exclaiming at its pleasantness.
"Why, yes--I think it is. I have been in many a parlour that I do not
like as well. Beyond this is a lower kitchen where Margery does all her
rough work; nothing comes up the steps that lead from that to this but
the very nicest and daintiest of kitchen matters. Margery, is my father
gone to Thirlwall?"
"No, Miss Alice, he's at Carra-carra; Thomas heard him say he wouldn't
be back early."
"Well, I shall not wait for him. Margery, if you will put the kettle on
and see to the fire, I'll make some of my cakes for tea."
"I'll do it, Miss Alice; it's not good for you to go so long without
eating."
Alice now rolled up her sleeves above the elbows, and tying a large
white apron before her, set about gathering the different things she
wanted for her work, to Ellen's great amusement. A white moulding-board
was placed upon a table as white; and round it soon grouped the pail of
flour, the plate of nice yellow butter, the bowl of cream, the sieve,
tray, and sundry etceteras. And then, first sifting some flour into the
tray, Alice began to throw in the other things one after another, and
toss the whole about with a carelessness that looked as if all would go
wrong, but with a confidence that seemed to say all was going right.
Ellen gazed in comical wonderment.
"Did you think cakes were made without hands?" said Alice, laughing at
her look. "You saw me wash mine before I began."
"Oh, I'm not thinking of that," said Ellen; "I am not afraid of your
hands."
"Did you never see your mother do this?" said Alice, who was now turning
and rolling about the dough upon the board in a way that seemed to Ellen
curious beyond expression.
"No, never," she said. "Mamma never kept house, and I never saw anybody
do it."
"Then your aunt does not let you into the mysteries of bread and butter
making?"
"Butter-making! Oh," said Ellen with a sigh, "I have enough of that."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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