"Good-morning, Mrs. O'Toole," he said, as he leaped up and let her in.
"Good-marnin', young sir," stammered the washerwoman. "Sure an' I didn't ixpict to see you here."
"I suppose not. But come in, and I will call Miss Dora."
"No need to call me, if you please," came in a silvery voice from the hall, and Dora appeared, as bright and fresh as ever. "I would have been down before, only I had to wait on mamma."
"And how is she?"
"She is no worse, but neither is she better. I shall send for our doctor to-day."
Breakfast was soon on the table-fresh coffee, fresh eggs, and dainty buckwheat cakes baked by Dora's own hands. It is needless to say that Dick enjoyed the repast.
"You'll make a famous housekeeper for somebody some day, Dora," he said, looking at her pointedly.
"You go and eat your cakes before they get cold," she answered.
"I've already eaten my fill, I can't go another one. I've enjoyed them ever so much. Now I guess I had better be off for Cedarville."