“Oh! Miss Robina will be sure to let me; and never mind the scones. I’ll go down for whatever we need, and I’ll ask Miss Robina. Let me stir the fire.”
Frederica had forgotten the gloomy day, and the nun, and all imaginable subjects of discontent. She urged her petition eagerly; for she knew that Eppie liked to be entreated.
“Let be the fire, missy. You’ll do mischief, and spoil your hands. You may bide if you get leave. But I doubt your sister will no be well pleased. It is ‘making fish o’ the one and flesh o’ the other,’ I doubt.”
But Frederica did not stay to listen. It was a great honour and an exceptional one, to be asked to tea by Mrs Campbell. No other girl now in school, except Tessie and one or two of the elder pupils, had ever been asked to drink tea in the garret. Except for the fun of the thing, or for the sake of a change from the dreary school routine, few of them would have cared to do so. For Eppie was only a little old woman, bowed and lame, who even in her best days had only been a sort of upper servant in Mrs Glencairn’s house. The present race of girls did not often see her. Some of them had never seen her; for her daily journey to the lower part of the house to get what she needed was accomplished with much labour and effort at time when the girls were sure to be in school.
Frederica was often in the garret. Miss Robina, whose pet, as Tessie had said, she was, seldom refused her permission when she wished to escape from the other girls, few of whose lessons she shared, either for work or amusement. But taking tea there was another matter; and Frederica, rather tired of being dismal, entered eagerly into the preparations. Miss Robina did not object; on the contrary, she was very glad to let her have the pleasure, heartily wishing that she might share it. She did share it for a little while, and added to it. For she came upstairs, carrying in her own hands a tray, on which were some fresh “scones” and a bit of “paddie,” each wrapped up in a snowy napkin, as was absolutely necessary to their perfection. She could not stay long—only long enough to be thanked and petted, and called “bonny bird” and “good bairn” by Mistress Campbell. She had a beautiful and good face, though it was rather pale and tired-looking, Frederica thought, as she sat for a moment smiling in the flickering firelight; and the first thing she said, when she and Eppie were left alone, was,—
“How pretty and nice Miss Robina is! What a pity it is that she has to keep a school?”
To this no reply was given.
“It must be so tiresome to do the same thing over and over again every day of the year,” added she.
“There are worse things than that in Miss Robina’s life, I’m thinking,” said Eppie gravely.
“Are there? Tell me about them,” said Frederica, eager for a story.