"I hope we shall be friends," said Dorothy, "we all have our faults, and so many young children are a great trial of temper; I shall be able to relieve Mrs. Letty of the trouble of the baby, and do most of the indoor work. It will be better than my going out into the fields with her husband and the men."
"You are just right. Now run down and clear away the dishes. I feel quite comfortable. Reach a pillow from the bed, Dolly. Just put it here, to the right side of the chair. Now the house is quiet, I shall get a nice nap."
Here Master Tommy thought fit to try the strength of his lungs, and began squalling lustily.
"Drat the child!" cried Mrs. Barford, using her son Joe's favourite expletive, "he allers chooses to be wide awake when I want to go to sleep. Do try, Dolly, and keep him still. You will find plenty to do down stairs between this and supper time." Coiling herself round in the comfortable chair, the old lady settled herself for a nap, and Dorothy ran down to clear away the dishes and relieve Letty from the care of the babe.
A week passed away, Dorothy thought it as long as a month. There came no word from the farm, and she concluded that Gilbert had returned to his accustomed duties; and that even Mrs. Rushmere had become reconciled to her absence.
Another week, and still no news of Gilbert.
Dorothy, by this time, was thoroughly acquainted with her new place; had got used to the people and the cattle; and was a great favourite in the family, from Master Dick down to little Sammy, who sat upon her lap of an evening to hear her tell him a story before he went to bed, Mrs. Letty forming the only exception. She could not bear to hear her mother-in-law praise Dorothy, but she found her too useful to quarrel with lightly, and confined her dislike to a watchful scrutiny of her words and actions, and a curt rude manner in giving her orders.
Dorothy would have felt this want of common courtesy very keenly, had not her mind been occupied with a deeper cause of anxiety, and she neither resented nor took the least notice of Mrs. Joe's ill manners, beyond setting her down in her own mind as a selfish unfeeling woman, with whom she could never be on friendly terms, and whose company was very disagreeable.
One day she was passing through a passage that led from the kitchen to the dairy. Joe and his wife were in earnest conversation in the kitchen; the door was open, they did not see Dorothy, and she could not help overhearing what they were talking about.