Dora, from the kitchen window, saw Ralph go out to the woodhouse, and she saw him returning with an arm-load of small sticks. Then she turned her back to the kitchen door, and bent her head over a beefsteak she was preparing for the gridiron.
Ralph came in with the wood, and put it down by the side of the great stove. As he glanced at the slight form in the pink gown, it struck him that this woman would not be equal to the hard work which would be sometimes necessary here.
"I suppose this wood will be as much as you will want for the present," he said, as he turned toward the door, "and the man will fill this box to-night, but if you need any more before he does so, there is the woodhouse just across the yard, where you can easily get a few sticks."
Dora half turned herself in the direction of the woodhouse, and murmured,
"Yes, sir."
"Miriam," said Ralph, as he went into the dining-room, where his sister was putting the knives and forks upon the supper table, "do you think that woman is strong enough to wash, iron, and do all the things that Phoebe used to do when she was here? How old is she?"
"I don't know, exactly," answered Miriam, going to a cupboard for some glasses; "and as to rough work, I can't tell what she can do, until she tries."
When Ralph had made his toilet and come downstairs, attired in a very becoming summer suit, his sister complimented him.
"Hay-making makes you ever so much handsomer," she said; "you look as if you had been on a yachting cruise. There is one thing I forgot to say to you, but I do not suppose it will make any difference, as we are real country people now: our new cook is accustomed to eating at the table with the family."
Ralph's face flushed. "Upon my word!" he exclaimed, staring at his sister. "Well," he continued, "I don't care what she is accustomed to, but she cannot eat at our table. I may carry wood for cooks, but I do not eat with them."
"But, Ralph," said Miriam, "you ought to consider the circumstances. She is not a common Irishwoman, or German. She is an American, and has always taken her meals with the family in which she lived. I could not ask her to eat in the kitchen. You know, Mike takes his meals there since Phoebe has gone. Indeed, Ralph, I cannot expect her to do a thing that she has never done in her life, before. Do you really think you would mind it? You work with Mike in the field, and you don't mind that, and this girl is very respectable, I assure you."