“Then go and fetch your wife directly. Cook will give you some breakfast here.”
Bruff scurried off, and Eliza entered the kitchen, wiping her eyes.
“Bit of a fright for you, eh, my girl?” said the doctor, taking her hand, and feeling her pulse. “Well done! Brave little woman. You are as calm as can be again. You’re not going to run away at a moment’s notice.”
“Oh, no, sir,” cried Eliza eagerly.
“Nor cook neither,” said the doctor aloud. “She’s too fond of us to go when we are in such a state as this.”
There was a sniff now from the back kitchen and the doctor gave Vane a humorous look, as much as to say, “I can manage cook better than your aunt.”
“There, my dear,” he said, “it’s of no use for you to cry over spilt milk. Better milk the cow again and be more careful. See what is broken by and by, and then come to me for a cheque. Vane, my boy, send a letter up at once for another boiler.”
“But surely, dear—” began Aunt Hannah.
“I am not about to have the boiler set there again? Indeed I am. Vane is not going to be beaten because we have had an accident through trusting others to do what we ought to have done for ourselves. There, come and let’s finish dressing; and cook!”
“Yes, sir,” came very mildly from the back kitchen, in company with the crackling of freshly-lit wood.