Mary Cecily Rowantree gave a rippling laugh.
“Why be calm,” she asked, “when you can be having a fine excitement about something or other?”
“It’s the Irish blood in her,” explained Mr. Rowantree benevolently, “that makes my wife like that. I am not so easily amused myself. A quiet life, that’s what suits me best. I ask nothing better than to sit on my gallery and look at my peaceful trees. My dear, dinner will be served ere long, I take it?” Again it seemed as if there must be a cook and cook’s assistants, scullions and servitors not far off. But again it was little Mrs. Rowantree who dashed to fill orders. Miss Zillah was persuaded to join Mr. Rowantree on the gallery, but Carin and Azalea insisted on going into the kitchen to help, for by this time they were quite aware of the condition of things. It was quite evident that Mr. Rowantree had an imagination, and not only saw some things which did not exist, but contrived not to see the unpleasant ones that did.
However, as the four handsome children persisted in tagging their mother into the kitchen, Mrs. Rowantree said to Carin:
“If you’re really wanting to help—and I can see your heart’s in it—would you mind telling a story to the young ones off somewhere? They’re always under my feet, and while goodness knows I love to have them hanging about me, they are a hindrance to the getting of the dinner.”
“Story?” cried Carin. “I know twenty. Come, children!” And she vanished, followed not only by the four young Rowantrees, but by Keefe O’Connor as well.
So it was Azalea who had the next hour with the hostess.
“I thought we’d eat on the gallery,” said Mrs. Rowantree. “It gives us a fine outlook over the estate.”
There was no table on the gallery, but boards laid on sawhorses served every purpose, and the linen which Mrs. Rowantree gave Azalea to spread over this rude table was of the finest, most beautiful damask. The dishes, on the other hand, were of the commonest and had evidently been purchased at Bee Tree or some similar mart. But as for the food, Mrs. Rowantree knew how to manage that. She evidently made a fine art of seasoning, and while, as she said, they “had not the advantage of markets” at Rowantree Hall, they contrived, apparently, to get plenty to eat.
It was quite a formal moment when Rowantree himself waved them all to their seats. He placed Miss Zillah’s chair for her magnificently, while Keefe placed Mrs. Rowantree’s. Miss Zillah was made to feel the distinction conferred upon her by being placed at the right hand of her host, who proceeded to carve his barnyard fowl with as many gestures as a trencher man of the Middle Ages might have used in carving the wild boar.