Mrs. Fitzpatrick was perfectly astonished when she came down to find her daughter weeding and hoeing, in her straw bonnet and garden gloves.
"I really cannot help it, mamma," was Aveline's reply to Mrs. Fitzpatrick's remonstrances; "it is so pleasant to feel better, that I could not resist a little independence of action. I have made your petunias look quite another thing."
"Here are some beautiful strawberries, Aveline," said her mother, "if you go out rambling to-day you must fortify yourself with a good breakfast."
"Yes! not strawberries, mamma. I will try some prawns. Jane's brother caught these. Tom. I don't know if you have ever seen him. There are two Toms. The other one is a cousin, and not nearly so good as the real Tom, Brand's eldest boy. I am afraid the other Tom is rather suspected of smuggling; but then what a temptation. This is just the coast for adventure."
"But all this time, Aveline, you are eating nothing," said her mother, looking anxiously at the trembling hands with which she held her tea-cup.
"Presently, mamma. I always need a little self-encouragement before I begin anything so important as breakfast. No, I think I will not venture on the prawns. I will take some strawberries; they are too fine to be wasted. I am going to have some cream with them--to make quite a feast, as the little children call it. And now, mamma, you must have one half, and I will take the other."
Aveline having divided the strawberries, tasted them, and they shared the same fate with the prawns; then she broke a delicate crust off the little loaf, and having tasted that, declared that she had finished her breakfast, and that as soon as Mark could clear away, she meant to sit down to her drawing for a little while.
"You must not undertake too much, Aveline," said her mother. "Remember that you can only expect to get well by degrees."
Aveline laughed and brought forward her portfolio to select a sketch.
"This is the one I wished to finish, mamma," she said. "Brand's cottage, with all those good masses of rock behind it, and the nets and children at the door. I sketched it before I went abroad."
"Let me rub your colours for you," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, taking a cake from her daughter's unsteady hand.