"Stop! here we are. Open the gate, Mrs. Adamecz."
The widow wiped away her tears, dropped her book, and got up to open the gate.
"Is dinner ready?" asked Father János.
"Dinner? Of course not. Whom was I to cook for? We all thought your reverence was lost. I have not even lighted the fire, for my tears would only have put it out again."
"Never mind, Mrs. Adamecz. I feel sure you were anxious on my account, but now go and see about some dinner for us, for we are dying of hunger."
Veronica had become suspicious at the widow's words, and began to storm her brother with questions; then burst out crying and turned her back upon Gyuri, declaring they were hiding something from her. So they were obliged to tell her the truth, and her poor little heart nearly broke when she thought of what her brother had gone through, and what danger he had been in.
While this was going on, Mrs. Adamecz was bustling about in the kitchen, and giving every one plenty of work to do. Both the maids were called in to help, and the farm-servant too.
"Come and whip this cream, Hanka. And you, Borbála, go and fetch some salt. Is the goose plucked? Now, Mátyás, don't be so lazy, run and pick some parsley in the garden. Dear me! How very thin the good lady is whom Miss Veronica has brought home with her. Did you see her? I shall have hard work to feed her up and make her decently fat. Give me a saucepan; not that one, the other. And, Borbála, grate me some bread-crumbs. But the young man is handsome. I wonder what he wants here? What did you say? You don't know? Of course you don't know, silly, if I don't. But this much is certain (between ourselves of course), there is something strange in Miss Veronica's eyes. Something has happened, but I can't make out what."
Widow Adamecz thought of all sorts of things, both good and bad, but her cooking was excellent, and she gave them such a dinner, that even the lovers found their appetites.
After dinner, Gyuri sent a man on horseback with a letter to Mr. Sztolarik in Besztercebánya.