“Betty, you are too dreadful! Won’t you put that paper down and try to help us?”
Betty looked at the three faces. In their shabby dresses, and with their pretty, anxious eyes, Verena having a frown between her charming brows, they made a picture that struck the cook’s heart. With all her odd and peculiar ways, she was affectionate.
“Are you fretting about it, Miss Renny?” she asked.
As she spoke she put down her feet and pushed the tempting number of the Family Paper from her.
“There!” she said; “poor little Miss Dunstable may marry the Dook of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton just as soon as she pleases, but I won’t have you put out, Miss Renny.”
“I did want something nice for dinner,” said Verena.
“Then I’ll manage it. There ain’t a better cook than I anywhere when I’m put on my mettle. Miss Penny, will you help me?”
“Certainly,” said Penelope.
“Well, run into the garden and pick all the peas you can find. There’s a nice little joint in the larder, and I’ll roast it, and you shall have a beautiful dinner. Now off you go, dears. You shall have custard-pudding and cream and strawberry-jam afterwards.”
“Oh, how nice!” cried Penelope, with a little gasp. “Be sure you give us plenty of strawberry-jam, and make a very large custard-pudding, for there’s such a lot of us to eat the things, and I generally get the teeniest little bit.”