“It’s because dear Brenda has returned,” thought the rector.
He felt the difference without observing it. But when sharp little Fanchon appeared and led him into the dining-room and he beheld with his own eyes two plump birds waiting to be carved, and saw the green peas, and the new potatoes, and the apple sauce, and the different accompaniments of young ducks, he forgot everything in the joy of gratifying his appetite.
The three girls were waiting—no servant ever attended at meals,—their faces were flushed with delight. The rector did not even ask, “Where is Brenda?” He flopped down into his seat, said grace, and began to carve the birds.
Brenda entered in a pale green cotton dress, which suited her lissom young figure to perfection. She took her seat meekly. The girls did not speak to her, but the rector addressed her with enthusiasm.
“My dear,”—he said—“what a delicious feast we are having, and how very good of you to manage it out of the housekeeping money. I know—my dear Brenda—that I give you far too little; but my stipend, my dear, is so small, and the needs of my poor so considerable—”
“There’s raspberry tart and cream coming on,” said Nina, “so let’s hurry up with the ducks.”
The rector placed the first delicious morsel between his lips. Brenda made a gentle remark to the effect that she was glad she had pleased him. Nina gave a groan; Joey kicked her sister’s foot; Fanchon tried to look stately, but failed. Notwithstanding all these things, however, the three girls and their father thoroughly enjoyed the excellent dinner.
“I feel a new man,” said Mr Amberley, when it was over. “It is wonderful how supporting really tasty food is. My dear Brenda, I thank you.”
She bowed to him—a mocking light in her eyes which he did not observe.