It was a very quiet meal, for no one said much; and it was evidently the custom of the house to eat silently, only now and then saying a few friendly words, to show that the hearts were social if the tongues were not.
On the present occasion this suited Christie; and she ate her dinner without making any more discoveries, except that the earth-stained hands were very clean now, and skilfully supplied her wants before she could make them known.
As they rose from table, Mrs. Sterling said: “Davy, does thee want any help this afternoon?”
“I shall be very glad of some in about an hour if thee can spare it, mother.”
“I can, dear.”
“Do you care for flowers?” asked David, turning to Christie, “because if you do not, this will be a very trying place for you.”
“I used to love them dearly; but I have not had any for so long I hardly remember how they look,” answered Christie with a sigh, as she recalled Rachel’s roses, dead long ago. “Shy, sick, and sad; poor soul, we must lend a hand and cheer her up a bit” thought David, as he watched her eyes turn toward the green tilings in the windows with a bright, soft look, he liked to see.
“Come to the conservatory in an hour, and I’ll show you the best part of a ‘German,’” he said, with a nod and a smile, as he went away, beginning to whistle like a boy when the door was shut behind him.
“What did he mean?” thought Christie, as she helped clear the table, and put every thing in Pimlico order.
She was curious to know, and when Mrs. Sterling said: “Now, my dear, I am going to take my nap, and thee can help David if thee likes,” she was quite ready to try the new work.