"Oh, yes; that won't annoy me: your song will please my ear without distracting my attention."
The old gentleman went on writing, while Lenora, with a rich and joyous voice, repeated all her songs and poured forth her heart in melody. She sewed meanwhile diligently, and, from time to time, glanced at her father to see whether the cloud had fallen again over his face and spirit.
They had been a considerable time engaged with their several occupations, when the parish clock struck; and, putting down her work hastily, Lenora took a basket from behind the stove and prepared to go out. Her father looked up with surprise as he said,—
"What! already, Lenora?"
"It has just struck half-past eleven, father."
Without making any other remark, De Vlierbeck bent his head again over the music-paper and continued his task.
Lenora soon returned from her walk with her basket full of potatoes and something else tied up in a paper, which she hid beneath a napkin. Then, pouring some water in a pot which she placed beside her chair, she began to sing, and threw in the potatoes as she peeled them. After this she kindled a fire in the stove and set the pot of potatoes to boil. After the fire burned well she put a skillet, with a little butter and a good deal of vinegar, over the coals.
Up to this moment her father had not looked up nor intermitted his work; he saw her getting dinner ready every day, and it was seldom that any variety of food appeared on their table. But, hardly had the potatoes begun to boil, when an agreeable perfume was diffused through the chamber. De Vlierbeck glanced up from his writing, a little reproachfully, as he exclaimed,—
"What! meat on Friday, my child? you know very well we must be economical."
"Don't be angry, father," answered Lenora; "the doctor ordered it."