“Fill this coal-hod, Henry, and bring it up immediately; and tell Cook to send Miss Phyllis’s dinner up. Be quick, please; the room is rather cold.”
The man departed, having just dared to give a sympathetic glance at Phyllis before he left the room. He quickly returned with the coals. The fire was built up and blazed merrily. He then drew down the blinds and pulled the curtains across the windows, and a moment later reappeared again, bearing a little tray of delicious food.
“I declare,” thought the child to herself, “I never knew before how nice a thing it is to eat. I am ready for my chop and fried potatoes. Oh! and I am glad I am having roast apples.”
She sat down quite cheerfully to her meal; even Miss Fleet’s presence scarcely annoyed her, so hungry was she and so glad to eat.
Chapter Eight.
At last the meal came to an end. While Phyllis was eating it Miss Fleet sat near the fire.
She read, or pretended to read, the evening newspaper which had just been sent to the Hall.
Presently Phyllis got up, uttering a low sigh.