"It is not daylight yet, and I shan't rise, I assure you," she said, in a fretful tone.
"Yes you will, I am sure. Uncle Stillinghast will be quite displeased if you do not. He said yesterday morning that you should rise when I do, and lo! you have slept an hour later. Come! it is hard I know to get up in the cold, but you'll soon become accustomed to it."
"I declare, May, you are as bad as your uncle. Heavens! what a pair to live with. One as exacting as a Jew, the other obedient as a saint, and obstinate as a mule! I never was so persecuted in my life!" exclaimed Helen, rising very unwillingly.
"That is right," said May, laughing, "be brisk now, for there is a great deal to do."
"What is it, May? Are you going to build a house before breakfast?"
"Come and see, and I promise you a nice time. The fire is already made in the kitchen-stove. Hurry down, I want you to grind the coffee."
"Grind the coffee! What is that?" asked Helen, with amazement.
"I will show you. Really, I would not ask you, only I have rolls to make."
"Coffee to grind, and rolls to bake, for that horrid old man—"
"And ourselves. I tell you what, Helen, he could get on vastly well without us, but how we should manage without him I cannot tell," said May, gravely, for when occasion offered, she could so inflate and expand her little form with dignity, and throw such a truthful penetrating light into her splendid eyes, that it was quite terrifying.