"Oh, I didn't mean that! But if you saw how thin and, careworn and poor she is——"
"I know it—I've seen her often enough. Meg, wasn't it Jem as said that you did with your might 'whatsoever your hand found to do'?"
"No, he said we ought to."
"It's the same thing with you, I'm thinking."
Meg went back to her tea-party, and by-and-by the bread was done, and came out of the oven looking a picture.
"How do you judge?" asked Mrs. Blunt.
But she need not have spoken, for Meg was tapping it with her knuckles, and when she heard it sound clear and bright on every side, she knew it was baked through.
"There, Mrs. Blunt, one of those is for you; see I will stand it on its top on this shelf to let the steam off, and when you go you shall take it with you. Whenever you like, I'll come down and watch you make one or two batches; that is, if mother does not want me."
So the tea-party ended. Mrs. Blunt had not had such a quiet meal for years. Her face looked brighter and happier as she prepared to go back again. Mrs. Seymour had already returned to her ironing, and Meg was putting the loaf on a plate.
"Would you mind saying that text over again?" asked Mrs. Blunt wistfully.