The divining woman looked into May Nell’s beautiful eyes, too deep and thoughtful for her slender body; drew her close and kissed her. “Yes, dear, just the nicest sort of work for a little girl. You may hull these strawberries; and if you eat some for toll I shan’t be looking.”
The child seeing the twinkle in the older eyes, laughed aloud; and, wrapped in a voluminous apron, began the first task that had ever left its stain on her pretty fingers.
Her questions brought long and wonderful tales of Billy’s younger life; of Edith when she, too, was a little girl. The child helped to set the table, carried in bread, salad plates, and jelly. “It shakes like the fat woman at the circus when she laughed. How do you make jelly?”
“Next month when currants are ripe you shall see.”
“And help?” May Nell asked, eagerly.
“If you wish to do so.”
Why, it was going to be fine to work! Why had she not known it before?
Services were over before she found time to be lonely. Dinner passed happily. The cats stayed quietly in their chair till dessert, when they came, one on either side of Edith, and stood with their forepaws on the table, their heads and shoulders above it.
“Flash has cake, Sir Thomas cheese,” Edith explained, giving each his coveted bit. They took the morsels from her fingers, ate them delicately, and mewed once. “That’s ‘Thank you,’” Edith interpreted.
“It’s a hurry-up order for more,” Billy amended.