With these words he turned away, and Ellen, feeling rather disconcerted, and ashamed at having wasted so much of her morning, hastened back to the house.
"Where have you been all this time, Ellen?" asked her mother, who was engaged in hushing the baby to sleep. "I have been calling you for the last quarter of an hour. It is too bad of you to get out of the way when you know there is so much to be done. Here it is past nine o'clock, and the beds are not made nor the breakfast things washed. What have you been about?"
Mrs. Mansfield, a pale, anxious-looking woman, spoke in low, querulous accents, as though she did not expect her remonstrances to have much effect.
"I have been watching for the postman, mother," replied Ellen. "But he brought no letter. I can't think why Aunt Matilda does not write."
"She would need to think awhile before she answered my letter," returned her mother. "She is not one to do things in a hurry. I could have told you there would be no letter this morning. You'd much better have been about your work than loitering at the gate."
Ellen gave her head an impatient toss at this rebuke, and began, with much unnecessary bustle and clatter, to wash the cups and saucers which had been used for the morning meal.
"Where is Lucy?" she asked, presently.
"Upstairs, giving Jerry his breakfast," her mother answered; adding with a sigh, "The poor lad has had a bad night, and is sadly this morning."
Ellen said nothing, but her mother's words awakened within her some self-reproach, for in her eagerness to get the letter she had forgotten the wants of her favourite brother, to whom she generally attended.
She worked busily for some time, in the vain hope of making up for lost time, and the breakfast things were soon washed and replaced on the dresser. She did not forget to tell her mother of the stranger she had seen, and of the meeting to be held that evening in Farmer Holroyd's barn.