“Yes, ma’am; and muffins too?”
“No—yes, yes. Go, and make haste; I’m starved.”
Kathleen had reached the head of the stairs when she was again recalled, and tea and cream-toast substituted for coffee, muffins, and waffles; then the Madame thought she would prefer chocolate, and finally decided that all three should be prepared, toast and muffins also, and she would take her choice.
Even Kathleen’s almost imperturbable good-nature was somewhat tried. Her face clouded for a moment, but all was sunshine ere she reached her kitchen again, where she flew nimbly about, executing the latest orders of her capricious mistress, saying laughingly to herself:
“Sure an’ it’s me that ’ud better make haste afore she has time to change her mind again; for it won’t be long it’ll take her to do that same.”
There was a knock at the side gate, and Kathleen flew to open it, the rose on her cheek deepening and her pretty blue eyes dancing with delight.
“It’s only me, Kathleen, me darlint!” cried a cheery voice.
“Sure and don’t I know your knock, Rory?” she responded, drawing back the bolt and admitting a strapping young Irishman. “But come into the kitchen; I’ve got the Madame’s breakfast over the fire, and can’t stop here to spake two words to ye,” she added, running back, he following close at her heels.
“Has the Madame sint down her orders yet?” he asked, sitting down beside the fire and watching the girl’s movements with admiring eyes.