"And I order it also," said Mrs. Carter. "You may wash that dress and have it done by five o'clock, or else you may pack your trunk and go." She turned with a firm tread and walked out of the room.
Annie looked after her with flashing eyes.
"She orders it too, does she? Well, I won't do it, an' I won't, an' I won't!" She dropped down in a chair at one end of the table and hid her head in her arms.
Peter cast an anxious glance at Nora; he did not know how to deal with Annie's case. Had she been an obstinate stable-boy, he would have taken her out behind the barn and thrashed reason into her with a leather strap. He awkwardly laid his hand on her shoulder.
"Aw, Annie, wash the dress; there's a good girl. It won't take ye very long, an' then we'll go down t' the beach to-night to see the fireworks. Miss Ethel didn't mean nothin'. What's the use o' makin' trouble?"
"It's no more my place to wash than it is Simpkins's," she sobbed. "Why didn't she ask him to do it? I won't stay in a place like this where they order you around like a dog. I'll pack me trunk, I will."
Nora and Peter regarded each other helplessly. They furtively sympathized with Annie, but they did not dare to do it openly, as sympathy only fanned the flames, and they both knew that Mrs. Carter, having pronounced her ultimatum, would stand by it. Annie must wash that dress before five o'clock, or Annie must go. At the thought of her going, Peter fetched a deep sigh, and two frowning lines appeared on his brow. She had been there only four weeks, but Willowbrook would never again be Willowbrook without her. Presently the silence was broken by the sound of generous footsteps flapping across the back veranda, and Ellen, the cook at Mr. Jasper's, appeared in the doorway.
"Good afternoon to ye, Nora, an' I wants to borrow a drop o' vanilla. I ardered it two days ago, an' that fool of a grocer's b'y——what's the matter wit' Annie?" she asked, her good-natured laughing face taking on a look of concern as she gazed at the tableau before her.
Nora and Peter between them explained. Annie, meanwhile, paid no attention to the recital of her wrongs; only her heaving shoulders were eloquent. Ellen hearkened to the story with ready sympathy.
"Oh, it's a shame, it is, an' on Fort' o' July! We all has our troubles in this world." She sighed heavily and winked at Peter and Nora while she pushed them toward the door. "Get out wit' ye, the two of yez, an' lave her to me," she whispered.