“Yes, and she almost wept when she saw me playing cook.”
In a few minutes dinner was on the table and Joanne, flushed and triumphant, took her place. The meal was not served in the usual orderly manner. There were frequent jumpings up to change plates or to bring in something forgotten, all of which annoyed Mrs. Selden, a great stickler for the proprieties, but neither Dr. Selden nor Joanne minded, and the little cook received all the praise due her. Even Mrs. Selden, though she spoke with caution, was pleased to remark: “I have had many cooks who professed to be expert but who did no better.” This was not an enthusiastic comment upon Joanne’s skill, but it was quite as much as could be expected from such a particular body.
Supper was a more jovial meal, for the Pattison cousins happened in, and Cousin Sue turned to and helped, then Cousin Ned insisted upon joining the kitchen workers and was so jolly and funny that Dr. Selden came out to see what made them all so merry. He declared that his nephew was trying to usurp his place as butler, and would have it that he could be only footman. They carried on such an absurd dispute that the cook and her assistant came near to spoiling the dish they were preparing because of laughing so much.
“They are just two grown-up boys,” declared Mrs. Pattison when the two men had marched out solemnly, each bearing a dish. “I never knew Uncle Greg could be so funny. I used to be just a little wee bit afraid of him.”
“He can be awfully good fun,” returned Joanne, “but he can be very dignified and stern, too. Now that he has come home for good, we are the greatest chums. I used to be not exactly afraid of him, but I minded his lectures more than Gradda’s.”
It was a tired Joanne who went to bed that Sunday night, but she had a great sense of well-being. For the first time in her life she had taken up real responsibilities, had performed tasks which meant the comfort and welfare of those she best loved. Heretofore they had done things for her; now she was doing these things for them. The petulant, self-centred, spoiled child was left far behind; she was catching up with the ideal woman whose shining robes she could dimly discern on the road ahead.
The next day was such a busy one that she almost forgot that school was beginning. Mrs. Selden had worried herself into a sick headache, though it required the united persuasions of Joanne and her grandfather to keep the poor woman in bed.
“How will you get along, you poor child?” she moaned when Joanne appeared for her breakfast dishes.
“I can get along perfectly well,” returned Joanne firmly.
“But all the things to be done; the ice to take in, the milk to see to, the orders to give, the door-bell to answer, not to mention the cooking.”