Mrs. Bronson put the cups and plates on the table, cut bread and butter for the children, and proved so helpful generally, that Flossie was charmed.
Nell had not returned when tea-time came, and before the meal was over, the first batch of customers came pouring into the kitchen, so Gertrude, with a hurried apology, had to go to them. To her great surprise, Mrs. Bronson came too.
“Oh yes, please, I am going to help if I may. Is there an apron to spare? Thanks.” Swathing herself in a big white linen apron of Nell’s, Mrs. Bronson stood by the cooking-stove for nearly two hours, serving out pints of soup, basins of beans, and big sections of a popular dish which was known as toad-in-the-hole.
There was an unusual rush of customers that evening, and Gertrude would have had a very hard time of it, but for Mrs. Bronson’s help. Patsey put his head in at the kitchen door once to see if his sister had need of him, but seeing Mrs. Bronson busy at the stove, he departed in a great hurry, being a shy boy and not used to the society of strange ladies.
Gertrude was growing secretly anxious about Nell: but it was of no use to send Patsey to meet her, for she did not know in which direction Nell had gone.
The crowd of customers thinned out after a time, the kitchen wore a stripped look, as if a devouring army had passed through; and Gertrude, leaning against the big table, exclaimed ruefully—
“Oh, I am so tired!”
“So am I,” replied Mrs. Bronson, laughing. Then, in a graver tone she asked, “Do you have all this to do, every evening?”
“Nell does. It is her work, you see; and although we all help her as much as we can, she bears the biggest share of the burden herself. But that is her way always,” Gertrude ended up—with a little burst of enthusiasm, as she stood fanning herself with a paper bag, for the evening was warm and the little kitchen felt like an oven.
An absorbed look crept into Mrs. Bronson’s eyes, and anyone might have thought she was nervous when she asked—