“Pleasant things, quo’ she! They’re my duty. What other would I hae?”
“But, Mistress Campbell, dear, if I thought I had to live all my life here, even in this house, I should be miserable.”
“But then it’s no your duty to live here all your life, and that makes the difference. If I were to make myself miserable as you call it, it would be for fear that I mightna get leave to bide here all my life, but I daresay it will be time enough to fret when I’m bidden go.”
“That will never be. What would Mrs Glencairn and Miss Robina do without you?”
“There’s no telling,” said Eppie, nodding her head many times; “but we’ll say no more about it. Are you no coming down from that cold window when I bid you?”
“Yes, I’m coming. But, Eppie, how can you be content? Are your father and mother dead? Have you any brothers and sisters? Will it be just the same all your life till you die?”
“Now, missy, come down this moment when I bid you. That’s an unwholesome book you’ve been reading, to put thoughts like that into your mind. It’s no me that’s like to grow discontented, it’s you. And I was just thinking of inviting you to tea.”
Frederica sprang down from the window so suddenly as to make the old woman start.
“Oh, do, Eppie dear,” cried she eagerly, “that is just the thing I should like. I want to speak to you, and I don’t want to go down to that rubbishing history; and I’ll read to you. I have not read a page yet, and it’s a very nice book they say.”
“Is it a story book? But I would far rather hear about the wee beasties out of your lesson book. And I’m no just sure that Miss Robina would be pleased that you should take tea with me so soon again, and I’m no sure that I hae scones enew.”