I ran across the yard, unlocked and relocked the gate, leaving Piter disappointed and barking, and hurried back to the house, where my uncles were busy over some correspondence.
“Hurrah!” I cried. “I’ve found it all out. Come along! Down to the works!”
“You’ve found out!” cried Uncle Dick starting.
“Found it all out!” I cried excitedly. “Now, then, all of you! Come on and see.”
I slipped down to Mrs Stephenson after telling my uncles to go slowly on and that I would overtake them, and that lady smiled in my face as soon as she saw me.
“Don’t say a word!” she cried. “I know what you want. Tattsey, get out the pork-pie.”
“No, no,” I cried; “you mistake. I’m not hungry.”
“Nonsense, my dear! And if you’re not hungry now, you will be before long. I’ve a beautiful raised pie of my own making. Have a bit, my dear. Bring it, Tattsey.”
It was, I found, one of the peculiarities of these people to imagine everybody was hungry, and their hospitality to their friends was without stint.
Tattsey had not so much black-lead on her face as usual. In fact it was almost clean, while her hands were beautifully white, consequent upon its being peggy day; that is to say, the day in which clothes were washed in the peggy tub, and kept in motion by a four-legged peggy, a curious kind of machine with a cross handle.