“I doubt you are no speaking with your usual discretion,” said Mistress Campbell gravely. “We’ll take our tea, and not meddle with what doesna concern us. There are few lives in which there are no troubles. Let us be thankful for our mercies.”
It was a very nice tea. Scones and fresh butter and honey, to say nothing of “paddies” and other nice things. And such delicious tea made in a funny little black teapot with a broken spout. Everything was charming, Frederica thought and declared. The novelty would have made it charming to her, though there had been nothing else to do so. They did not fall out of talk. Eppie asked questions about the holidays they had enjoyed; and entered with great interest into all the details Frederica gave her about her mother and Selina, and the drives they had had, and all they had enjoyed together. She grew grave as she went on to tell that her mother was not strong, but easily tired and troubled, and to wish that she could leave school, and stay at home with her always. Eppie was grave too, and occupied with her own thoughts for a little while; and as Frederica sat looking into the fire in silence, the unhappy feeling that had passed away in the interest of tea-drinking in such pleasant circumstances came back again.
“Are you no going to wash the cups?” asked Eppie in a little.
This was always in the evening’s entertainment, and to-night it was happily accomplished, inasmuch as it dispelled the cloud which had hung for a moment over them.
“It must be nice to have things to do—useful things I mean,” said Frederica.
“I doubt it is a liberty in me to let you wash my cups, or even to ask you to your tea,” said Eppie. “For you are no longer the wee missy that came creeping up the stairs the first day you came to the school. You are growing a young lady now.”
“That is just what I was telling mama,” said Frederica eagerly. “I ought to have done with school now, and stay at home, ought I not? I don’t suppose I should wash cups; but there are a great many things I could do for mama and Lina. Do you really think I am growing a young lady, Eppie? I am such a little thing, you know,” said Frederica; “but I am nearly fifteen.”
An odd smile flickered for a moment on Eppie’s small wrinkled face.
“You needna be in any great hurry about being a young leddy. I doubt you’re but a bairn to the most o’ folk yet,” said she.
“Not for myself—I am in no hurry to be grown up for myself; but for mama’s sake.”