Presently Billie brought out a tray with a cup and saucer, sugar and cream and some thin slices of buttered bread. From the upper gallery there came to her the low hum of conversation. The sleepers had awakened and were getting bathed and dressed.
“Do you know Phoebe?” she asked, while she poured the coffee.
The herb-gatherer smacked her lips and sniffed the air expectantly. “I’ve seen her.”
“Don’t you feel sorry for her to lose her father? She is very unhappy.”
“No sugar,” exclaimed the old woman, ignoring the question. “Good!” she exclaimed. “Fine coffee!”
Presently Billie poured out another cup and finally another.
“You like coffee, don’t you?” she said.
“This fine coffee.”
“We send away for it. The village coffee is not good.”
“I never tasted the like before.”