“And this,” said Gill, who had again flitted out empty-handed and now flitted in with a canteen of fresh milk, “this with Abershaw’s compliments.”
“Rich new milk for our tea! This is indeed a luxury. Where did it come from, Gill?”
“Abershaw drove in a herd of cows this evening,” answered the boy.
“One would really think that we were living the border life of Scotland in the olden time, when cow-stealing was the most popular profession among the landed gentry and their retainers,” mused Elfie.
“Never mind. Don’t quarrel with your supper, my dear. When you have led a guerrilla life as long as I have, you will learn to take what is set before you and be thankful. Gill! is that thunder?” inquired Alberta, as a low muttering sound was heard in the air outside.
“Yes, ma’am, there is an awful black cloud rising. The men think there will be a storm—a great storm.”
“It is very late in the season for a thunder-storm. But then it has been so unusually warm. Gill!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are all our men on this side the river?”
“Yes, ma’am.”