The girl nestled up to her father's side affectionately.
"I quite thought you called me," she murmured, "and that you said, we have a guest coming to-morrow, Mariska."
"Aha, you are right enough," smiled Tárhalmy. "Of course I said so. Your cousin Matyi will dine with us to-morrow. Bless me, if I hadn't quite forgotten all about it."
"And it's well I should know it in good time."
"Yes, indeed, and see you have his favourite dishes for him. Have you plenty of stores, or must any be procured?"
"No, indeed, I have everything I want in the house."
And therewith, Mariska kissed her father's hand, nay both of them, and danced back into the next room as light-hearted as a bird.
And the two maids at the spinning-wheel must be up and doing; one to pound almonds in the mortar; the other to sift fine flour for fritters. The Fräulein herself set about peeling lemons, seeing she was going to make some of Matyi's favourite cakes, such as no Vienna pastry-cook could turn out. And through the whole household there was the sound of singing, for Mariska too could sing on occasion—and this was one.
But the pronotary himself sent his heyduke to go and find Mr. Mathias Ráby, and tell him, with his compliments, that he would expect him to dinner the next day.