It was Victoria with the luncheon tray, and it seemed as if she never would have done arranging it to her satisfaction.
"I brung yer some apricot jelly, Miss Elsie," she said; "I knowed you had one of yer headaches."
But Elsie only moaned and turned upon her cushions.
"Dar's only cold chicken and dat patter," said Vic; "I took de ducks in fur marster."
"There is quite enough," said Elizabeth; "you needn't wait."
"Yes, miss," returned Vic. "I hain't had no time yet to sweep de room Miss Harrington had—Clo, she's ugly as Cain, ter day."
"It makes no difference," said Elizabeth, while Elsie threw down her book in feverish impatience.
"Yes, miss, but tain't pleasant," returned Vic, with her most elegant curtsey. "I likes to do my work reg'lar and in time, missus knows dat; but when Clo gets into one o' her tantrums she sets ebryting topsy-turvey, 'specially when dat yaller nig', Dolf, come down feering wid de work."
"Then keep out of the kitchen," cried Elsie; "don't quarrel."
"Laws, Miss Elsie," said Victoria, with all the injured resignation of suffering innocence; "I neber quarr'ls wid nobody, but I defy an angel to git along wid Clo! She's jest de most aggravatin' piece dat eber wore shoe leather! She's so mad 'cause she's gettin' ole dat she hates a young girl wuss nor pison, she does."