“Ay,” said Millicent, with another sigh, as she sat down in the heavy Windsor chair which it required all Molly’s strength to set for her; “there are many changes, Jenny, very many, since you and I lived together at Bentley Hall.”
“Not for the worser, are they?” replied Jenny cheerfully.
“Ah! I’m not so sure of that, Jenny,” answered Millicent.
“Well, I’m nowise afeard of changes,” said Jenny, in the same bright tone. “The Lord means His people good by all the changes He sends. Mrs Millicent, won’t you tarry a while and sup your four-hours with us?”
The meal which our ancestors called “four-hours” answered to our tea; but tea had not yet been introduced into England, though it was very soon to be so. They drank, therefore, either milk, or weak home-brewed ale.
“With all my heart,” was the reply, “if I’m not in your way, Jenny. You are washing, I see.”
“I’ve done for to-day, and Tom and me’ll be as pleased as can be if you’ll take a bit with us, Mrs Millicent. Molly, child, fetch forth the table-cloth, and get the salt-cellar, and then run and tell father.—She’s a handy little maid for her years,” added Jenny, with motherly pride.
Millicent smiled rather sadly. “You are a happy woman, Jenny!” she said.
“Bless the Lord, so I am!” echoed Jenny. “It’s the Lord’s blessing makes folks happy.”
“Say you so?—then maybe that is why I am not,” said Millicent, rather bitterly. “I don’t know much of the Lord.”