"No. I broke the last carrying it across the kitchen an hour ago. My hands were all of a tremble with the pain, and the egg slipped."
"Betty, you are too dreadful! Won't you put that paper down and try to help us?"
Betty looked at the three faces. In their shabby dresses, and with their pretty, anxious eyes, Verena having a frown between her charming brows, they made a picture that struck the cook's heart. With all her odd and peculiar ways, she was affectionate.
"Are you fretting about it, Miss Renny?" she asked.
As she spoke she put down her feet and pushed the tempting number of the _Family Paper_ from her.
"There!" she said; "poor little Miss Dunstable may marry the Dook of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton just as soon as she pleases, but I won't have you put out, Miss Renny."
"I did want something nice for dinner," said Verena.
"Then I'll manage it. There ain't a better cook than I anywhere when I'm put on my mettle. Miss Penny, will you help me?"
"Well, run into the garden and pick all the peas you can find. There's a nice little joint in the larder, and I'll roast it, and you shall have a beautiful dinner. Now off you go, dears. You shall have custard-pudding and cream and strawberry-jam afterwards."
"Oh, how nice!" cried Penelope, with a little gasp. "Be sure you give us _plenty_ of strawberry-jam, and make a very large custard-pudding, for there's such a lot of us to eat the things, and I generally get the teeniest little bit."
"You are a nursery child, and it's in the nursery you'll have your tea," said Verena in a stern tone. "Go and pick the peas."
She sat down just where she was, in an obstinate heap, in the middle of the floor.
"If I are not to eat those peas I don't pick 'em," she said. "I wor going to be kind, but I won't be kind if I'm to be turned into a nursery child."
"Oh! do let her come to the dining-room just for to-night," pleaded Pauline.
"Very well, then; just for once," said Verena.
Dinner went off better than the girls had expected. But to Miss Tredgold it was, and ever would be, the most awful meal she had eaten in the whole course of her existence. The table was devoid of all those things which she, as a refined lady, considered essential. The beautiful old silver spoons were dirty, and several of them bent almost out of recognition. A like fate had befallen the forks; the knives were rusty, the handles disgracefully dirty; and the tablecloth, of the finest damask, was almost gray in color, and adorned with several large holes. The use of serviettes had been long abolished from The Dales.