“Oh, but I am coming, my Lady Betty,” answered Rhoda, briskly. “I mean to drink a dish with every one of you.”
“I shan’t give you anything to eat,” interpolated Mrs Jane. “Never do to be guzzling on a fast-day. You won’t get any sugar from me, neither.”
“Never mind, Mrs Jane,” said Rhoda. “Mrs Dolly will give me something, I know. And I shall visit her first.”
Mrs Dorothy assented by a benevolent smile.
“I hope, child, you will not forget it is a fast-day,” said Madam, gravely, “and not go about to divert yourself in an improper manner.”
“Oh no, Madam!” said Rhoda, drawing in her horns.
No sooner was dinner over—and as Rhoda had predicted, there was nothing except boiled potatoes and bread and butter—than Rhoda pounced on Phoebe, and somewhat authoritatively bade her come upstairs. Madam had composed herself in her easy chair, with the “Eikon Basilike” in her hand.
“Will Madam not be lonely?” asked Phoebe, timidly, as she followed Rhoda.
“Lonely? Oh, no! She’ll be asleep in a minute,” said Rhoda.
“I thought she was going to read,” suggested Phoebe.