The morning had been a very trying one: it was Monday, the day of the week on which Celestia Ann always insisted upon doing the family washing without regard to the state of the weather. She prided herself on getting her clothes out early and having them white as the driven snow, and her temper was never proof against the trial of a Monday-morning storm.
There had been a steady pour of rain since before daybreak, and the queen of the kitchen consequently in anything but an amiable mood. A severe headache had kept Mrs. Keith in bed, and to Mildred had fallen the task of guiding and controlling the domestic machinery and seeing that its wheels ran smoothly.
She had had several disputes to settle between Ada and Zillah on the one side, and the irate maid-of-all-work on the other; also much ado to induce the younger children to attend to their lessons, and then to keep them amused and quiet that her mother might not be disturbed by their noise, and through it all her heart was heavy with its own peculiar burden; besides, atmospheric influences had their depressing effect upon her spirits, as upon those of the others, and more than once a sharp or impatient word, repented of as soon as uttered, had escaped her lips.
"An undeserved blessing," was her remorseful thought at sight of the letter. "It may be ill news to be sure—oh if it should!—yet anything is better than this terrible suspense."
But that must be borne until she could snatch a moment of solitude in which to end it.
Zillah, stooping over the kitchen fire, looked up hastily as her sister entered. "You've come to get mother's dinner, Milly? Well, here it is all ready," pointing to the teapot steaming on the hearth, beside it a plate of nicely browned and buttered toast.
"O you dear good girls!" was Mildred's response as she glanced from the stove to the table, upon which Ada was in the act of placing a neatly arranged tea tray.
"As if it wasn't the greatest pleasure in the world to do a little for mother!" exclaimed the latter half indignantly. "You needn't think, Milly, that the rest of us don't love her just as well as you do."
"I meant no such insinuation," Mildred said, half laughing. "I'm sure our mother deserves the greatest possible amount of love and devotion from all her children. But may I claim the privilege of carrying up the dinner you two have prepared?"
"Yes: I suppose it's no more than fair to let you do that much; but you needn't expect me to think it's any great goodness," Ada answered, putting the finishing touches to her work, and stepping aside to let Mildred take possession of the tray.