And Erminie, feeling as miserably as she had ever felt in her life, went obediently to prepare herself, thanking Heaven, in the meantime, that Alberta was no longer in her house.
When she was quite ready she came down. And she and her pastor set out for the Provost Marshal’s office.
Meanwhile Elfie waited for her hostess. But when she saw Erminie, attended by Dr. Sales, leave the house, she lost all patience, exclaiming:
“Well, really, people in this place never seem to know when other people ought to eat. Catherine, bring in the pudding.” Elfie finished her dinner, and rang the bell for the parlor maid. Catherine came in.
“Here, you remove these things, and tell Frederica that Miss Rosenthal has gone out without her dinner, and direct her to have a young chicken ready for the gridiron, and to keep the kettle on the fire and make some toast. Miss Rosenthal having missed her dinner, will require something warm with her tea.”
“Very well, Miss,” answered acquiescent Catherine.
And Elfie arose rather impatiently and passed into the library, where the gas was now lighted, and flung herself into one of the easy chairs, exclaiming crossly:
“Plague take the people, I do wish they would let poor Minie have some peace of her life. From her early rising to her late retiring, she has not one hour to herself, poor child. She is at everybody’s beck and call. And between the wounded soldiers in the hospitals and the refugees from the South, and the contrabands, and—bless patience—yes, the guerrillas, too, she is harrassed almost to death, poor girl. And now where on earth has the old parson taken her? I declare she doesn’t even get time to eat!”
So grumbled Elfie, unable to settle herself to any sort of employment. After awhile she again rang the bell, and brought Catherine to her presence.
“You may lay the cloth for tea in this room. It is more comfortable than the dining-room. And you must have everything ready for Miss Rosenthal by the time she returns.”