“Milly,” said the farmer’s wife kindly, and advancing as she spoke, from the open door of the pantry, “come here to the table and see how a bit of this roast fowl tastes. And try this glass of currant wine,—you need not be afraid of it, it is home-made. While you are busy with it, I’ll get a little basket ready, and put on my cloak to run over with you when you go back.”
Milly blushed crimson. It was difficult to her to learn the hard lessons of poverty. Nevertheless, she ate some bread and cold chicken, and was quite ready to praise the delicate wine for the grateful warmth it sent thrilling throughout her frame.
When she had finished, Mrs. Brooks was ready to accompany her, and Comfort too, having received private instructions, stood with her shawl over her head, and a large basket of wood in her hand.
So they set out together, Milly leading the way, the snow crunching under their feet, along the path.
In a short time, a bright fire was burning in patient Elinor’s room, while the remains of a little feast on a table in the centre, showed that the family suffered no longer from the pangs of actual starvation.
Elinor was bolstered up in bed, looking like a wan, despairing woman of fifty, instead of a girl of twenty-two. Care and sickness had aged her before her time. A faint, sweet flush was dawning on her cheeks to-night, however, for she was not now enduring hunger, and Mrs. Brooks sat there by the cheerfully blazing hearth with her mother and sister, and talked hope into all their hearts.
“I tell you what it is, Mrs. Harrow,” said the farmer’s wife, in a pleasant, hearty tone, “we must set this Milly of yours to work. Things ought not to go on this way with your family any longer.”
“Work!” echoed Milly, a little bitterly. “I’ve seen the time, dear Mrs. Brooks, when I would have given anything for a month’s work. Only tell me something to do, and see how grateful I shall be.”
“Well,” said the farmer’s wife, “the darkest hour is just before day, Milly; who knows but that yours is now over, and dawn is coming. I have been thinking about your opening a school.”
Mrs. Harrow clasped her hands eagerly.