“There are so many things the matter with me! I did not fall asleep this morning till the sun was up. This gives one an appetite,” she added, stirring with a greedy air the soup Joanna had placed before her.
The cook, standing before her with folded arms, contemplated Juliana with an expression of satisfaction on her countenance.
“The only thing wanting is that it should be to your taste,” she said.
“It is just right.”
Both smiled, pleased at the friendly feeling existing between them, to which they had just given expression. At this moment the door-bell, that had already sounded faintly, was heard for the second time with more distinctness.
Juliana did not move. Puffs of warm air came in through the window, in the silence could be heard the simmering of the pot on the fire, and the incessant sound of hammering from the forge near by; from time to time the melancholy and monotonous cooing of a pair of turtle-doves from their cage in the balcony mingled with the brightness of the afternoon a note of gentle sadness.
The bell sounded again, this time rung by an impatient hand.
“Now call with your tongue, imbecile!” said Juliana.
Both women laughed. Joanna went and seated herself in a low chair by the window, her large feet, encased in listing slippers, stretched out before her, and began to scratch her arms softly, enjoying to the full these few moments’ rest.
The bell sounded violently.