"Keep still till you hear what more's to come. Always hot potatoes, fried, or in chips, or some fancy way, and a chop, or steak, or liver and bacon, or some such thing, and corn bread—"
"I'll do it," she sighed, "though it will be an awful trouble, and I'll have to get up an hour earlier."
"And fruit to start with. Always apples, or oranges, or pears, grapes, peaches, or whatever's in the market."
"Yes, you shall have it, Micah."
"And for dinner, soup always, and fish, and two kinds of meat, and three kinds of pudding or pie, and more fruit and coffee and tea."
"But the money," she gasped,—"it will cost a fortune."
"Ain't I going to pay you,—just you wait; and a hot supper such as you get at hotels. None of your bread and butter and preserves and weak tea arrangements. Now, do you hear all that, and can you do it?"
"Yes, Micah, I can," she said, firmly. She had grasped the situation now. "But you've got to pay me—"
"Well, how much?—name your price now, and don't cheat me."
"I'll have to reckon it up; but I should say it would be as much as fourteen dollars."