But, as the evening draws on, this faintest, glimmer of renewed hope dies, and I sink back once more into my accustomed gloom.
----
"What will you please to order for dinner to-day, mum?" asks cook from the doorway. I have never yet given directions for that meal, much to that worthy creatures despair, whose heart and thoughts are in her stew-pans.
I glance up with languid surprise.
"Anything you please," I say; "you are always very satisfactory. I told you I would leave everything to you. Why do you ask me to-day in particular?"
"Law, mum, sure it's Christmas day, and I thought may be as 'ow—-"
"Christmas-day, is it," I exclaim, curiously. "Then I have been a whole fortnight in this place."
"Yes, mum. A whole fortnight and one day, by five o'clock this hevening, precisely. I took the liberty of asking you to order dinner for this one night, thinking as you might put a name to something or other dainty that you fancies."
"Indeed I have no choice, cook, and I am not at all hungry."
"Likely enough, mum, considering it is now only twelve o'clock; but for a lady like yourself, as eats no luncheon to speak of, you will for certain be starved by seven."