“Who? pappy? No; he’s gone to market, and will get his victuals at the eating stall. Wouldn’t it be good fun to keep a eating stall in a market?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, never mind whether you do, or not. Hurry up with my victuals.”
“Yes; but I’m afraid we haven’t got all the things you want; but I will bring you up what we have,” said the girl, who had opened her eyes widely at the bill of fare ordered by her sickly guest.
“Well, go do it then, and don’t stop to talk,” said Sybil, shortly.
Rachel went out, and in due time returned with a waiter containing Sybil’s breakfast.
“Why, there an’t half—no, not a quarter of the things I told you to fetch me,” said Sybil, turning up her nose at the waiter that Rachel placed upon the table.
“I have brought you some of everything that we have cooked. I should be glad if I could bring you all you wish,” replied Rachel.
“Then I s’pose I must be half-starved in this poor place. And me so weakly, too! I’ll tell pappy as soon as ever he comes. I want to go home—I do. We’ve got as much as ever we can eat at home,” grumbled Sybil, doing her best to act her part, and perhaps overdoing it.
But Rachel was not suspicious. She again apologized for not being able to fill her guest’s order in its utmost extent, and she remained in the room and waited on Sybil until the breakfast was finished, and then she took away the service, wondering how little her guest had eaten, after having ordered such a vast amount of food.