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Updated: June 26, 2025
"She's a good girl, if you understand her and and they leave you at the drop of a hat." Hepsie's going came sooner than even Elizabeth had feared. She brought a cup of coffee to her at noon, but avoided conversation and went out at once. Elizabeth called her mother-in-law to her after dinner was over and cautioned her afresh. "But I haven't had a word with her that was ill-natured or cross," Mrs.
"Really, child, it isn't fit to put milk in again till it's in better condition. How did you happen to let it get so dull and rusty?" "Now, mother, it isn't rusty at all. It is pretty dull, but that's not Hepsie's fault.
It would have been of no use; besides, her own sense of fairness told her that there was room for all that had been hinted at. Monday John spent the day looking for a girl to take Hepsie's place. Tired and discouraged, he came home about four o'clock in the afternoon. "Could you get me a bite to eat?" he asked Elizabeth as he came in. "I haven't had a bite since breakfast."
Elizabeth was more appreciative, of those pans than any purchase which had been made for her benefit in all the months she had served as John's housekeeper, but by the time she was through scouring she was ready to throw them at any one who was foolish enough to address her upon housekeeping; besides, she plainly discerned the marks of discontent upon Hepsie's face.
Hepsie's in the potato patch," Elizabeth said in a low voice, and went back so promptly that John could not reply. John took Hepsie with him, and explained to Liza Ann, as Elizabeth requested, that she was unable to come because Jack had hurt himself. The day was dry and hot, and John Hunter consumed water like a fish upon all occasions.
In this quiet little peaceful spot in Somersetshire there was no reason why a girl of Hepsie's age should not run about freely, and so, warmly wrapped up, the child trotted off but any one watching her small determined face would have seen that this was not an ordinary walk upon her part. She left the old lane and turned towards a different part of Sunnycoombe.
Now, no more talk, for here we are, darling, and, please God, this may be the last Christmas that we spend without daddy, in England or Africa, as it may be." "And I won't grieve you again to-day, darling little mother," whispered Hepsie, quite sobered at the thought of mother without either her daddy or Hepsie's on Christmas Day again, and no letter from Africa by the usual mail.
Her tone was full of a deep sorrow, and for once, young as she was, Hepsie understood that here was an emotion upon which she must not remark, though she muttered in her own heart: "All through his own wicked old temper." Mrs. Erldon took Hepsie's hand in her own as they walked towards the little home at the end of the long country lane.
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