She took a huge, crooked hair-pin from her hair, and buttoned Nancy's boots with wonderful speed, when the tool which she worked with was considered.
And what a breakfast that was, which Nancy ate from a blue-edged pie-plate that was badly crackled.
A small piece of very tough ham, an egg fried for ten minutes, until it looked and tasted like leather, a boiled potato the color of lead, and a biscuit of about the same hue.
“I don't s'pose ye're used ter drinkin' tea, but I guess I'll give ye some ter wash yer bread down. That biscuit's kinder dry,” and she offered Nancy a cup of drink, which, from its flavor, might have been tea—or anything else.
The little kitchen was dingy, and the food not at all like the appetizing fare which she usually enjoyed, but she was hungry, and Sue felt flattered that Nancy ate the breakfast which she had served.
And after breakfast how the hours dragged!
Nancy was anxious to be starting for home, yet she could do nothing to hasten the time when she could go. Sue was busy with the ordinary work of the morning, and Mrs. Ferris had told her to tell Nancy that she would talk with her after dinner. That she felt too ill to see her until afternoon.
“'Tain't no use ter fret, Nancy,” said Sue, “she ain't good fer much till after dinner, but I guess shell talk with ye then fast 'nough.”
“But I'm wild to get back to the cottage,” wailed Nancy.
“Ye couldn't git there ter-day, fer this is Sunday, and we don't hev but two trains that stop here Sundays. One leaves here at half-past seven in the morning, an' the other stops here at half-past nine at night, but that one goes ter the city, an' that would be going right away from Merrivale.”