“Come, now, ma’am, dinner is ready—not such a dinner as I hope to set before you every day for the future, but just such a one as I could get up under the circumstances to-day.”
“I have no doubt it will be delicious and just what we like. As for me, I prefer what are called ‘picked up dinners’—simple little dishes. The sight of big joints takes away my appetite,” said Gloria, as she arose and followed her conductress into the room from which the latter had emerged.
It was the front room on the left-hand side of the hall—a large room, with an oak floor uncarpeted, stone walls unplastered, two tall front windows, uncurtained, and a broad fireplace, where blazed a rousing, fragrant fire of pine and cedar wood.
An oaken table, covered with a coarse, clean white cloth, stood in the middle of the room, set for dinner; two oaken chairs were placed for the master and mistress of the house.
David Lindsay stood before the fire, but on seeing Gloria, came forward to meet her.
“You look pale and worried,” he said, as he took her hand.
“Yes, I have been going over the house and I feel tired,” she replied.
“And hungry, I hope, to do justice to the dainty repast Mrs. Brent has prepared for us,” he added, as he led her to the table and drew out her chair.
“Now come, Mrs. Brent and Philippa, you must both sit down and dine with us to-day. Don’t let it be said that we had to take our dinner alone on the first day of our arrival at home,” said Gloria.
David Lindsay immediately arose and placed two more chairs at the table.