Mr. Peterkin appeared coming down the slope of the hill behind the house, very cheerful. He had made the tour of the farm, and found it in admirable order.
Elizabeth Eliza felt it time to ask Martha about the next meal, and ventured to call it supper, as a sort of compromise between dinner and tea. If dinner were expected she might offend by taking it for granted that it was to be “tea,” and if they were unused to a late dinner they might be disturbed if they had only provided a “tea.”
So she asked what was the usual hour for supper, and was surprised when Martha replied, “The lady must say,” nodding to Mrs. Peterkin. “She can have it just when she wants, and just what she wants!”
This was an unexpected courtesy.
Elizabeth Eliza asked when the others had their supper.
“Oh, they took it a long time ago,” Martha answered. “If the lady will go out into the kitchen she can tell what she wants.”
“Bring us in what you have,” said Mr. Peterkin, himself quite hungry. “If you could cook us a fresh slice of beefsteak that would be well.”
“Perhaps some eggs,” murmured Mrs. Peterkin.
“Scrambled,” cried one of the little boys.
“Fried potatoes would not be bad,” suggested Agamemnon.