"It's my only talent, dear," answered Kat cheerfully, beginning to work on the table, where she made the dishes rattle.
Bea trailed slowly through the room with her broom and dust pan, and a rather discontented face. Olive tied on her veil and hurried away to her daily business; Ernestine went to practice a new piece 'till the first scholar should arrive; and Kittie and Kat were left to the bliss of dish-washing and kitchen work. So began the day.
This was several weeks after events last recorded, and all things in the Dering household had changed much.
Jean had not gone to Virginia at once. Her wardrobe had needed complete repairing, and during the time so occupied, Mr. Congreve spent much of it in the city, sending therefrom various and beautiful things for Jean, and a dress for each of the girls, doing so without permission, knowing, that if asked, it would be refused him.
Kittie and Kat had been withdrawn from school, and studied at home with the older girls. Their part of the work fell in the kitchen. With Mrs. Dering and Huldah for teachers, they had studied the easier branches of cooking, and the crooks and by-ways of that department of general work. They proved apt and merry pupils, and learned their tasks quite readily, so, that while the girls missed the wonderful dishes that Huldah had been able to "knock up," they were daily fed on very palatable food, considering the age and newness of the young cooks.
Bea was chief housekeeper, kept an eye over general affairs, sat at the head of the table, and had commenced doing her hair in a most dignified way; filling with much girlish satisfaction, the position of "Miss Dering," and "lady of the house."
Olive was book-keeper in Mr. Dane's store, and really more head of the family than Bea, as she kept all accounts, settled the bills, and was frequently consulted on some questionable matters, involving the home expenses. To Ernestine fell the easy lot of four pupils in music.
Affording her no opportunities of display, or avenue for compliments or praise, she thought it very hard indeed, and found it bitterly uncongenial, to her ideas of independence, if, indeed, she had ever possessed any really tangible ones. She wanted to help, as a matter of course, especially as all the rest did; but such an ordinary, self-denying way was sadly distasteful to her, and she still had a vague, but pleasing, idea of becoming a great prima-donna and electrifying vast concourses of people, who would praise, admire, and pay her largely. Unfortunately, however, such positions do not lie around in wait, and invite some one to honor them with an acceptance; but, in spite of such a discouraging fact, Ernestine held tenaciously to her pleasing idea, and spent much time in thinking how delightful all things would be, when that time arrived.
Mrs. Dering had secured the desired position in the seminary, three miles out of Canfield, and had a flourishing class in both music and languages. The stage came in twice a week after mail, and at these times the anxious mother made hurried trips home, and these few hours were snatches of greatest joy and comfort to all parties, and especially comforting to the girls, who found the first few weeks of the new life very trying, and oftentimes discouraging.
On the next Tuesday evening, when the stage came in, Mrs. Dering found a thick, tempting letter, with the Staunton post mark, and Jean's prim, childish hand writing. There had come several short letters from the little girl, who said she would wait until she saw everything about her new home before writing a very long letter to describe it; so it was evident now that the long letter had come, and with this extra joy for herself and the girls, Mrs. Dering hurried home, where everything was radiantly bright for her reception, and where the girls looked and felt as though care had rolled from them for the time, or was at least so lightened, that it seemed quite gone.