Part 7 (1/2)
”Come down and dress by the kitchen range,” repeated her mother. ”I've warm water all ready for you.”
The bra.s.sy light behind the trees was becoming golden; slim bluish shadows already stretched from the base of every tree across frozen fields dusted with snow.
As usual, the lank black cat came walking into the room, its mysterious crystal-green eyes brilliant in the glowing light.
Listening, the child heard her father moving heavily about in the adjoining room.
Then, from below again:
”Ruhannah!”
”I'm going to get up, mother!”
”Rue! Obey me!”
”I'm _up_! I'm on my way!” She sprang out amid a tempest of bedclothes, hopped gingerly across the chilly carpet, seized her garments in one hand, comb and toothbrush in the other, ran into the hallway and pattered downstairs.
The cat followed leisurely, twitching a coal-black tail.
”Mother, could I have my breakfast first? I'm so hungry----”
Her mother turned from the range and kissed her as she huddled close to it. The sheet of zinc underneath warmed her bare feet delightfully.
She sighed with satisfaction, looked wistfully at the coffeepot simmering, sniffed at the biscuits and sizzling ham.
”Could I have one little taste before I----”
”Come, dear. There's the basin. Bathe quickly, now.”
Ruhannah frowned and cast a tragic glance upon the tin washtub on the kitchen floor. Presently she stole over, tested the water with her finger-tip, found it not unreasonably cold, dropped the night-dress from her frail shoulders, and stepped into the tub with a perfunctory s.h.i.+ver--a thin, overgrown child of fifteen, with pipestem limbs and every rib anatomically apparent.
Her hair, which had been cropped to shoulder length, seemed to turn from chestnut to bronze fire, gleaming and crackling under the comb which she hastily pa.s.sed through it before twisting it up.
”Quickly but thoroughly,” said her mother. ”Hasten, Rue.”
Ruhannah seized soap and sponge, gasped, shut her grey eyes tightly, and fell to scrubbing with the fury of despair.
”Don't splash, dear----”
”Did you warm my towel, mother?”--blindly stretching out one thin and dripping arm.
Her mother wrapped her in a big crash towel from head to foot.
Later, pulling on stockings and shoes by the range, she managed to achieve a b.u.t.tered biscuit at the same time, and was already betraying further designs upon another one when her mother sent her to set the table in the sitting-room.
Thither sauntered Ruhannah, partly dressed, still dressing.
By the nickel-trimmed stove she completed her toilet, then hastily laid the breakfast cloth and arranged the china and plated tableware, and filled the water pitcher.
Her father came in on his crutches; she hurried from the table, syrup jug in one hand, cruet in the other, and lifted her face to be kissed; then she brought hot plates, coffeepot, and platters, and seated herself at the table where her father and mother were waiting in silence.
When she was seated her father folded his large, pallid, bony hands; her mother clasped hers on the edge of the table, bowing her head; and Ruhannah imitated them. Between her fingers she could see the cat under the table, and she watched it arch its back and gently rub against her chair.