"Six—the seventh is my servant's son; he is delicate, but he isn't a cripple. We don't call him her son here, she is nominally his aunt."
"You look after these boys, and go up to London to earn their living?"
"I earn sufficient to run my little establishment."
As they returned to the cottage, one of the boys thrust his spade into the ground.
"Please, miss, may we stay up a little longer this evening? It won't be dark till nine or half-past, miss."
"Yes, you can stay up." And Owen and Evelyn went into the house. "I do hope, Owen, that Eliza's cooking will not seem to you too utterly undistinguished."
"You have forgotten, Evelyn, that I have been living on hunter's fare for the last two years."
At that moment Eliza put the soup-tureen on the table.
"Why, the soup is excellent! An excellent soup, Eliza!"
"There is a chicken coming, Sir Owen, and Miss Innes told me to be sure to put plenty of butter on it before putting it into the oven, that that was the way you liked it cooked."