Matilda cleared the table, but before she would take her departure she required definite instructions with regard to dinner, tea, and supper.
Mrs. Howland raised a distracted face. “Really, I can’t think,” she said, “my head is so weak.”
“Well, mum,” said Matilda, “s’pose as missus and me does the ’ousekeepin’ for you to-day. You ain’t fit, mum; it’s but to look at you to know that. It’s lyin’ down you ought to be, with haromatic vinegar on your ’ead.”
“You’re quite right, Matilda. Well, you see to the things to-day. Have them choice, but not too choice; fairly expensive, but not too expensive, you understand.”
“Yus, ’um,” said Tildy, and left the room.
Maggie found herself alone with her mother. “Mother,” she said eagerly, “now I will tell you why I was not home for breakfast this morning.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter, Maggie,” said Mrs. Howland; “I am too weak to be worried, and that’s a fact.”
“It won’t worry you, mother. I breakfasted with Mr. Martin.”
“What—what!” said Mrs. Howland, astonishment in her voice, and with eyebrows raised almost to meet her hair.
“And an excellent breakfast we had,” said Maggie. “He isn’t a bad sort at all, mother.”