Part 5 (2/2)
”Folks don't need eggs in the mornin' anyway,” continued Ellen, still on the defensive. ”This stuffin' yourself with food is all habit. Anybody can get into the way of eatin' more 'n' more, an' not know where to stop.
Bread an' coffee an' oatmeal is all anybody needs for breakfast.”
If she expected a reply from her niece, she was disappointed, for Lucy did not speak.
”When you can get sixty-six cents a dozen for eggs, it's no time to be eatin' 'em,” Ellen continued irritably. ”You ain't come to live with a Rockefeller, Miss.”
Receiving no answer to the quip, she drew a chair to the table and sat down.
”You'd better come an' get your coffee while it's hot,” she called to Lucy.
Slowly the girl approached the table and seated herself opposite her aunt.
The window confronting her framed a scene of rare beauty. The Webster farm stood high on a plateau, and beneath it lay a broad sweep of valley, now half-shrouded in the silver mists of early morning. The near-at-hand field and pasture that sloped toward it were gemmed with dew. Every blade of tall gra.s.s of the mowing sparkled. Even the long rows of green shoots striping the chocolate earth of the garden flashed emerald in the morning sunlight; beyond the plowed land, through an orchard whose apple boughs were studded with ruby buds, Lucy caught a glimpse of a square brick chimney.
”Who lives in the next house?” she inquired, in an attempt to turn the unpleasant tide of the conversation. If she had felt resentment at her aunt's remarks, she at least did not show it.
”What?”
”I was wondering who lived in the next house.”
”The Howes.”
”I did not realize last night that you had neighbors so near at hand,”
continued the girl brightly. ”Tell me about them.”
”There's nothin' to tell.”
”I mean who is in the family?”
”There's Martin Howe an' his three sisters, if that's what you want to know,” snapped Ellen.
Lucy, however, was not to be rebuffed. She attributed her aunt's ungraciousness to her irritation about the breakfast and, determining to remain unruffled, she went on patiently:
”It's nice for you to have them so near, isn't it?”
”It don't make no difference to me, their bein' there. I don't know 'em.”
For some reason that Lucy could not fathom, the woman's temper seemed to be rising, and being a person of tact she promptly s.h.i.+fted the subject.
”No matter about the Howes any more, Aunt Ellen,” she said, smiling into the other's frowning face. ”Tell me instead what you want me to do to help you to-day? Now that I'm here you must divide the work with me so I may have my share.”
Although Ellen did not return the smile, the scowl on her forehead relaxed.
”You'll find plenty to keep you busy, I guess,” she returned. ”There's all the housework to be done--dishes, beds, an' sweepin'; an' then there's milk to set an' skim; eggs to collect an' pack for market; hens to feed; an'----”
”Goodness me!”
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