“There was no such imminent need to break your rest after such a night of disturbance, Judith,” said Miss Conyers, leaving the window and beginning her own morning toilet.
“Sure it was a storm to be remimbered all the days of one’s life, so it was,” said Judith.
“It is past,” answered Britomarte.
When they were dressed Britomarte went into the parlor to open the windows and set the table, and Judith into the kitchen to make the fire and get the breakfast.
Soon Justin came out of his room.
“Good-morning, sister! The dreadful night is over, thank Heaven! How did you pass it?” he inquired of Britomarte.
“As Macbeth passed the night of Banquo’s murder, in ‘starts and flaws,’” said Britomarte, smiling. “How is your sick man?”
“In a fever. We shall have to keep him here for a few days until he gets better. I hope that Miss Riordan will not object to giving him a cup of tea and a round of dry toast this morning.”
“Oh, no! Now that Judith’s panic has passed, she has come to her senses,” said Miss Conyers, going into the kitchen to give the requisite orders.
“I’ll jist tell ye what, ma’am! There was only eight barrels iv flour saved out’n the wreck, and for nearly two years we three people have been eating of it; and for more than six months we four, counting the pirate, have been using it! And, though I’ve eked it out as well as I could, wid using male and rice and vigitables, still it is getting low! We’ve opened the last barrel, and this is the last loaf iv bread made out iv it; and I want it to last till to-morrow, so I do! And now you want to throw away a lot iv it in dhry toast for that haythen!” said the indignant Irish girl, as soon as she had received Miss Conyers’ orders.