"Oh, do you mean that sort of stiffness? But, Norton, I thought there was something I could do there, you know, and I didn't think I ought to come away."
Getting to the top of the bank broke off the discussion. Matilda and Norton each had things to get together to go to the parsonage; and it was necessary to change their dress. The sun was well on his westing way when they left the iron gate of Briery Bank, bag in hand; and in the little lane of the parsonage the elm trees cast broad and long shadows. As they came up on the piazza, Miss Redwood opened the door. Her hood and shawl were on, and she had a basket in her hand. She stopped suddenly.
"What is it now?" she said. "What's wanting?"
"Nothing," said Matilda; "only Mr. Richmond has sent us here."
"He has!" said the housekeeper. "You've come to stop?"
"Mr. Richmond says so. He wished it."
"Well, what'll you do?" said Miss Redwood, coming to a sort of pause. "There ain't a living soul in the house, and there won't be, 'cept the minister himself; and how he'll get along I don't know. I can't be in two places at once."
"Can't I get the tea, Miss Redwood?"
"La, I don't know but what you kin. Come along in, and let me tell you. There's bread all baked, this afternoon—it ain't cold yet—enough to last a siege; it's in that pantry, Matilda, in the bread box. You know there's all the cups; and saucers; and tea things, for you've seen me get 'em out; and the tea canister, and the sugar. And the milk is down cellar, in a pan, and there's cream onto it. Can you skim it off and keep it cream yet, for the minister's tea?"
"Oh yes; I can do that, Miss Redwood."