“That day has passed,” replied Mrs. Todd.
“Better not be too sure. Wait till you get down with an illness and see if you dare disobey my orders. I wish you’d come here and finish this job. You know better than I do which of these glasses belong in your cupboard.”
Mrs. Todd was not unwilling, and the doctor turned to Ellen, saying: “I have an understudy. What shall I do now?”
Ellen surveyed the room. “You see that cake over there. You can eat what you can of it, and I will see what can be done with the rest.”
“That cake? I’d as soon swallow a bullet. Do you want me to die of acute indigestion? It’s as heavy as lead, girl. Throw it away.”
Mrs. Todd left the glasses and came over to regard the cake critically. “It is rather heavy,” she commented, “but the edges might be used in cabinet pudding.”
“Then please take it and make the pudding,” cried the doctor, “but I will not be responsible for your death or Jeremy’s. If I have a hurry call from you to-morrow night, I shall know what remedies to bring.”
Mrs. Todd laughed. “I was going to invite you to dinner, but now I shall not.”
“Good thing, too. Here, give me that broom, Ellen. I’ll sweep up.”
With the many hands at work the kitchen was soon in fair order, the last goodnights were said, and Ellen was left alone with her cousin.