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She returned to the hall-parlour with a smoking dish, and a face all sunshine. "I'm afraid they're not very good, dear," she said. "Chut!" said Pete; "we're not particular. Phil and I have roughed it before to-day." But she had not belied the food she had set on the table. The mutton was badly fed, badly killed, badly cut, and, above all, badly cooked. To eat it was an ordeal.
They were sitting at breakfast in the hall-parlour, and she said, "I should like to be my own housekeeper, Pete." "And right, too," said Pete. "Be your own woman, darling not your woman's woman and have Mrs. Gorry for your housemaid." To turn her mind from evil thoughts, she set to work immediately, and busied herself with little duties, little economies, little cares, little troubles.
With a terrified glance over her shoulder she crept out of the room. Being downstairs again, she breathed more freely. There was light all about her, and the hall-parlour was bright and warm. The kettle was now singing in the cheerful blaze, the cat was purring on the rug, and there was a smell of bacon slowly frying. She looked at the clock it was a quarter after seven.
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