“O sakes! Let ’em sleep,” said Temperance; “in a few more years they’ll wake fast enough o’ their own accord. Laws! I kin mind when I’d have slep’ all day if they’d let me be.”
In this homely sentence lay the secret of Temperance’s influence. This gaunt old maid never forgot the workings of her own youth. Indeed now that it was past she acknowledged its weaknesses very frankly, and this reminiscence made her very lenient towards young people.
Old Mr. Lansing departed for the barn, and Sidney, filled with impatience to see Vashti, paced up and down the kitchen.
Temperance brought the eggs and sat down beside the tray, looking at him with a sort of pitiful sympathy in her keen eyes.
Sidney essayed to begin his breakfast; a smile twitching the corners of his sensitive mouth.
Temperance watched him.
At length he laid down his knife and looked at her.
A subtle atmosphere of sympathy made him confident and expansive.
“I say, Temperance,” he said, “I was never so happy in all my life. You don’t mind my talking to you about it, do you? I’m so happy that—oh, Temperance.”
It was a boyish conclusion; he looked at the gaunt country woman; her hands worked nervously; she looked as if she felt the emotion which made him ineloquent.