With that she led the way, the children following.
They found hot baked potatoes, bread, butter, and milk awaiting them; all excellent of their kind, and they ate with relish.
“Don’t you eat breakfast, ma’am?” asked Harry innocently.
“Of course,” replied Mrs. Coote. “I had my breakfast along with my husband half an hour ago or more. Grown folks should always be served first, children afterward.”
“Mamma and papa didn’t do that way,” remarked Harry, “’cept when papa was too sick to come to the table.”
“But I like it best,” said Blanche, with a timid glance at the stern face of Mrs. Coote.
“It’s all the same to me whether you do or not,” she returned in an icy tone. “I’m the one to decide what is best, and it’s not my way to consult children’s fancies. Now be quiet, all of you; don’t waste time in talk or you’ll not be ready for prayers when Mr. Coote comes in.”
After prayers Ethel was directed to put their outdoor garments upon her little brother and sisters and take them out to play in the yard, while she put in order the room they had occupied and made the beds. She obeyed promptly.
“Oh, children, don’t for the world do any mischief,” she said anxiously, when she had led them out and taken a hasty survey of their surroundings, “for you’d be sure to get punished for it, and that would ’most break my heart. Don’t go on the grass either till the sun dries up the dew, or you’ll be sick, and oh, dear! what could I do for you then? And there’s nobody here to be good to any of us.”
“Don’t be afraid, Ethel, we’ll be good,” said Blanche, “we won’t get our feet wet and we won’t meddle with the flowers or anything.”