Caleb’s black eyes looked yearningly at her as she stood there all unconscious, doing one of her innumerable neighborly kindnesses for him.
She made a picture of sweet, strong, steady womanliness, although she did not know it. Caleb knew something extraordinary was going on inside of him, but under what impulse he was too puzzled and inexperienced to say.
Amanda turned sharply at the sound of his voice as she was lifting the steaming arrowroot out of the water.
“Whose cat is this?”
“Mine.—Come off that bed, Tristram!”
“Don’t disturb him; I like to have him there.—Where’s Abby Thatcher?”
“She’s gone home on an errand; she’ll be back in fifteen minutes now.”
“Where’s William?”
“It’s only five o’clock. He don’t come till six. What can I get for you? Have you had a good sleep?”