A spinster fresh from a farm not know how make bread, to be sure!
But in a moment I was ashamed and sorry that I had yielded to myself so far as to forget the courtesy due to her as my guest, and one just home from a scene of sorrow, so I rushed across the room, seized her hand, and said, eagerly:
"Do forgive me! It slipped out before I thought!"
She looked at me in blank amazement, unconscious that there was anything to forgive.
"How you startled me!" she said. "I thought you had suddenly gone crazy."
I went back to my seat crestfallen enough. All this time Ernest's father had sat grim and grave in his corner, without a word. But now he spoke.
"At what hour does my son have family worship? I should like to retire. I feel very weary."
Now family worship at night consists in our kneeling down together hand in hand, the last thing before going to bed, and in our own room. The awful thought of changing this sweet, informal habit into a formal one made me reply quickly:
"Oh, Ernest is very irregular about it. He is often out in the evening, and sometimes we are quite late. I hope you never will feel obliged to wait for him."
"I trust I shall do my duty, whatever it costs," was the answer.