“Oh, and Tiza, I know,” exclaimed Milly eagerly, “you meant these would do for supper. That would be a lovely make up. There’s three. One for Mr. Backhouse, one for Mrs. Backhouse, and one for Becky.—There’s none for you, Tiza.”
“Nor none for Becky neither,” answered Tiza shortly. “Father’ll want two. Becky and me’ll get bread and dripping.”
“Well, come along, Tiza, let’s take them in.”
“No, you take them,” said Tiza. “Mother won’t want to see me no more, and father’ll perhaps be coming in.”
“Oh, but, Tiza, you’ll come to tea with us?”
“I don’t know,” said Tiza. “You ask.”
And off she ran as quick as lightning, off to her hiding-place in the cherry tree, while Milly was left with the three brown eggs, feeling rather puzzled and anxious. However, she put them gently in the skirt of her frock, and holding it up in both hands she picked her way through the wet yard back to the house.
When she appeared at the kitchen door, Aunt Emma and Mrs. Backhouse were chatting quietly. Mr. and Mrs. Norton, and Olly, had gone on for a little stroll along the Wanwick road, and Becky was sitting on the window-sill with the baby, who seemed very sleepy, but quite determined not to go to sleep in spite of all Becky’s rocking and patting.
“Oh, Mrs. Backhouse,” began Milly, coming in with a bright flushed face, “just look here, what I’ve brought. Tiza found them just after dinner to-day. They were under the hayrick right away in the corner, and she wanted to make up, so she showed me where they were, so I brought them in, and there’s two for Mr. Backhouse, and one for you, you know. And, please, won’t you let Tiza come to tea with us?”
Mrs. Backhouse looked in astonishment at the three eggs lying in Milly’s print skirt, and at Milly’s pleading little face.