"Isn't there as much as usual? I will go and see if there is some
more," said the girl, deftly arranging the tray. "See, it is quite hot
this morning."
"But it will be cold before you return, doubtless," sighed Mrs. Lorton,
with saintly resignation. "And, Eleanor, may I venture to ask you not to
renew the terrible noise with which you have been filling the house for
the last half hour. You know how I dislike crushing the exuberance of
your animal spirits; but such a perfectly barbaric noise tortures my
poor overstrained nerves."
"Yes, mamma. We'll--I'll be quiet."
"Thank you. It is a great deal to ask. I am aware that you think me
exacting. This butter is anything but fresh."
"It was made this morning."
"Please, oh, please do not contradict me, Eleanor! If there is one
characteristic more plainly developed in me than another it is my
unerring taste. This butter is not fresh. But do not mind. I am not
complaining. Do not think that. I merely passed the remark. And if you
are really going to get me my usual quantity of cream, will you do so
now? Cold chocolate two mornings in succession would try my digestion
sadly."
The girl left the room quickly, and as she passed the dining-room door
she looked in to say hurriedly: "Dry up, Dick. Mamma's been complaining of the noise."
"'Eleanor, I never complain,'" he murmured; but he put down the banjo,
rose and stretched himself, and left the room, pretending to slip as he
passed Nell in the passage, and flattening her against the wall.
She gave him a noiseless push and went for the remainder of the cream.
Mrs. Lorton received it with a sigh and a patient "I thank you,
Eleanor;" and while she sipped the chocolate, and snipped at the bread
and butter--she ate the latter as if it were a peculiarly distasteful
medicine in the solid--the girl tidied the room. It was the only really
well-furnished room in the cottage; Nell's little chamber in the roof
was as plain as Marguerite's in "Faust," and Dick's was Spartan in its
Character; but a Wolfer--Mrs. Lorton was a distant, a very distant
connection by a remote marriage of the noble family of that name--cannot
live without a certain amount of luxury, and, as there was not enough to
go round, Mrs. Lorton got it all. So, though Nell's little bed was
devoid of curtains, her furniture of the "six-guinea suite" type and her
carpet a square of Kidderminster, her stepmother's bed was amply draped,
possessed its silk eider-down and lace-edged pillows; there was an
Axminster on the floor, an elaborate dressing table furnished with a
toilet set, and--the fashionable lady's indispensable--a cheval glass.