“While you were dressing.”
“Was I so very slow?”
“No, but you see I had the advantage of you in not needing to change my dress.”
With that Marian, who had just brought in a plate of hot cakes, glanced admiringly at Lulu’s costume.
“What a pretty girl that little Miss Raymond is, and so beautifully dressed!” she remarked to her mother on going back to the kitchen. “It must be a grand thing to be the daughter—”
“Don’t allow yourself to envy her, my child,” interrupted the mother, “’tis God appoints our lot, and we must strive to be submissive and content.”
“Mother,” cried the girl, almost fiercely, “ye needna tell me God appointed this lot for you and me. I’ll never believe it, never! ’Twas the father o’ lies brought us here an’ keeps us here, and oh, but I wad we had never left bonny Scotland!”
“Hush, hush, child! bairn, your wild words but add to the weight o’ the cross already almost too heavy for your mother to bear,” returned Mrs. McAlpine, catching her breath with a half sob. “Here, carry this to the guests in the sitting-room,” giving her another plate of cakes, just taken from the griddle.
“Can you tell me where to find the post-office, Miss Marian?” Captain Raymond asked, as she again stood at his side, offering her cakes.
“Yes, sir; ’tis just around the corner, on the way to the mine. If you want to send there, sir, Sandy, my brother, will go for you willingly. They must be making up the mail for the East now, and it will close presently.”