Old Mr. Cairns began more and more to appreciate the presence of his long-lost elder daughter; and Jervis was happier than for many long years before.
The one family fret and trial was Hannah’s uncomfortable rasping temper. But this mattered less to Jervis now he had Marian’s companionship, and Marian herself did not seem to be easily ruffled. She was a good deal changed in that respect since early girlhood.
“Something’s wrong with Betsy,” Hannah announced as they rose from early dinner.
“Wrong—how?” inquired Jervis.
“I don’t know. She’s been sick all the morning, and she’s gone to bed, leaving everything on my hands—as if I hadn’t enough to do already—and Saturday too!”
“The poor thing can’t help being ill, I suppose,” said Jervis.
“Nobody said she could,” retorted Hannah. “Other folks can help being lazy, though.”
The cut at her sister was obvious; but Marian only asked, with a half-smile—
“What is it you want me to do?”
“Oh, I never count on you for anything!” Hannah responded, with an indignant whisk of her body towards the dresser. “You’ll be wanting to read your Bible all the afternoon, because of to-morrow’s Sunday-school. That’s about all you’re good for! I’ve got the bread to make, and a pie for to-morrow, and father wants a lot of bread-and-butter and tea taken out to the mowers in the front meadow—I can’t see on earth why! And Betsy wants looking after too. She’ll have to see to herself, for I’ve no time. And there’s no end of sheets to darn.”