Haddycraff came to the door and rapped, and Alberta went and received from him a large dish of fried chicken and a pitcher of milk, which was all that was wanted to complete the preparations for the morning meal.
Alberta set them on the table and then put up the teapot and the plate of toast.
“We have no butter to-day, Elfie, but Abershaw has got a dairyman, and with all these cows, I dare say we shall have some for to-morrow,” said Alberta.
“To-morrow. I hope a great many things will happen before to-morrow,” said Elfie.
And they both sat down to the table.
Alberta poured out a cup of tea, and set it before her guest and said:
“Try some of that fried chicken, Elfie. Haddycraff is a very good cook.”
“And I suppose some Union farmer’s hen-roost has been robbed to supply his larder,” replied Elfie rather ungratefully, as she stuck her broken fork into the crisply fried breast of chicken, and transferred it to her cracked plate.
“Of course; how else should we be fed?” laughed Alberta.
Elfie had a healthy young appetite, and notwithstanding her captivity and her conscience, she made a hearty meal.