As soon as breakfast was over, my mother and myself retired to our apartment, to finish our preparations for the removal to the Well House. They were not many, for most of our goods were sent thither already, and the house having been kept in such nice order, there was but little to do. My aunt, on her part, was busy among her storerooms and presses, and we presently saw old Matt driving the laden donkey before him, and carrying as many baskets as would have loaded another.
We meant to have gone away directly after breakfast, but aunt was most earnest with us to stay to dinner and partake of the feast which had been put in hand before the unlucky business of the book. So, though I at least was impatient to be gone, we consented to remain. What a feast it was, to be sure! What jellies and creams and tarts and pies of every sort and kind! (The Cornish folk are famous for pies, and 'tis said that the devil never dared to come into Cornwall lest they should take a fancy to "a devilly pie." This, however, is not true. He is just as busy in Cornwall as anywhere else.)
We all parted good friends, and I forced myself to bid a civil adieu to Betty. Aunt Amy was careful to put into each of our hands a package of cakes and comfits, that we might not enter our new home empty-handed and thus bring scarcity upon it. Andrew walked at my mother's bridle-rein, as usual, and Rosamond and I walked together. Simon and Jeanne had preceded us.
When we reached the house-door, Andrew assisted my mother to alight, and then he and Rosamond took a kind leave of us. He saluted me as usual, but there was a change in his manner toward me which I felt bitterly enough, though I had too much maidenly pride to show it. Then they returned home, and we entered our new house together. Dinah and Jeanne were in the hall to welcome us, and had made a cheerful little fire upon the hearth of our sitting-room, for though the summer was in its prime, the evening was cool, and a little mist was drifting up from the sea.
"The place seems home-like, does it not, my Vevette?" said my mother. "I must say I am not sorry to be in my own house once more. Ah, if your father were but here!"
"He is in a better home than this, maman," I ventured to say.
"True, my child, and we will not wish to call him back again. We shall go to him, but he will not return to us."
She kissed me, and we stood a moment in silence. Then my mother roused herself and proposed that we should go through the house.
We found everything in beautiful order, and had occasion at every step to admire my aunt's generosity and Andrew's thoughtfulness.
There was abundance of fine linen and of blankets and everything in the housekeeping line that could be needed. Dinah displayed with delight the service of real china, and the silver salts, and the dredgers for pepper and spices, and the pots upon pots of preserves and honey which my aunt had provided.