Page:Authors daughter v1.djvu/46

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42
THE AUTHOR'S DAUGHTER.

felt for her. He half-whispered to her, "Don't think us unkind because we don't understand the fashions you were brought up to. As you come to know us better, you will find out that we wish each other well without saying much about it. Now have a cup of tea from Jessie, or will I make it for you as I did last night? or, as you are just off he ship maybe you will like milk best."

"There's some grand kirn milk," said Mrs. Lindsay, "for Jessie made the butter this morning when you were sleeping or should have been. Maybe you would like that best."

"No, I thank you, I should prefer tea to anything," said Amy, who looked round the breakfast-table, which was spread with liberal though somewhat inelegant profusion. There were fried bacon and eggs, and mutton chops, and boiled eggs, and cold corned beef, with fresh butter and beautifully white home-made bread and soda-scones, which Mrs. Lindsay herself had made as a treat for the stranger. Jessie Lindsay presided over a large half-gallon tin teapot, with a handle in front as an auxiliary to the handle in common use. The best china was never taken into use in the kitchen, and the earthenware was of various shapes and patterns, for there was a great deal of breakage, and commonware could not be matched,