“Nice steak—so tender and juicy!” cried one.
“Fresh bread and butter! Dear me!” cried another.
“Oh, such coffee—with real milk in it!” almost screamed a third.
And merrily, happily, the girls went to work over those luxuries like a bevy of singing birds in a field of grain.
Even Miss Scrimp’s face grew softer as she heard the merry music at her board, though a sigh now and then told that this extravagance, while it saved her from a prison cell, was eating vastly into the profits which she had hitherto made.
Wild Kate, in the exuberance of her feelings over this change, made a speech. She often did. But seldom did she make one so much to the point.
“Girls,” said she, “isn’t this just glorious! Over this cup of nice coffee I feel like weeping, for having been so saucy to good Miss Scrimp last night. Over this delicious steak I feel like promising never to find a fault here again, without real, strong occasion for it. Over this sweet butter and this fresh, nice bread, cut thick, I feel like giving thanks both to Heaven, and to her who has provided such a splendid table, and to move a vote of thanks from us all to Miss Scrimp.”
“Thanks! Thanks!” rose from every girl’s lips at the table.
“Let us also thank Biddy Lanigan for cooking all these luxuries so nicely!” added Hattie Butler, who saw the cook standing near the door, in her accustomed position.
“I knew that angel-born wouldn’t forget ould Biddy. She has ever the kind word for me!” cried the happy Lanigan.