Upon which Mr. Purcell laughed and went out, glad no doubt to have the matter of breakfast disposed of without any more trouble. But Rotha eat slowly and thoughtfully. Breakfast was disposed of, but not dinner. How was she to go on? She meditated, tried to gather patience, and at last spoke.
"It is best to arrange this thing," she said. "Meals come three times a day. If you will call me, Mrs. Purcell, I will come. If you will not do that, will you set by things for me?"
"Things settin' round draws the flies. We'd be so thick with flies, we couldn't see to eat."
"What way will you take, then?"
"I don' know!"
All the while she was actively and deftly busy; putting her beans in water, preparing her table, and now sifting flour. Rotha came and stood at one end of the table.
"I should not have thought," she said, "that anybody that loved the gospel of John, would treat me so."
A metallic laugh answered her, which she could not help thinking covered some feeling. The woman's words however were uncompromising.
"I didn't say I loved no gospel of John."
"No, not in words; but the little book tells of itself that somebody has loved it."