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Kezia's entrance, with very black looks, to inquire if she shouldn't bring in the tea now, or whether the toast was to get hardened to a brick, was a seasonable check on Bob's flux of words, and hastened his parting bow. How a Hen Takes to Stratagem The days passed, and Mr.
They had muffins, I remember, and Miss Linden thought muffins not good for little girls, and my bread-and-butter was cut thicker than I ever had it at the cottage, and the slice of currant-bread was not nearly as good as Kezia's home-made cake even the plainest kind. No, my remembrances of going out to tea at the vicarage were not very enlivening. How different the visit to Moor Court was!
Miss Annas, my dear, I hope I don't make too free, but you see I did not like to leave you out in the cold, as it were. Will you accept one of them? They are good rules for any young maid, though I say it." "How kind of you, Mrs Kezia!" said Annas. "Indeed I will, and value it very much." I turned at once indeed, I think we all did to my Aunt Kezia's rules.
She wore a silk dress too, only it was a dark stone-colour, as quiet as a Quakeress, just trimmed with two rows of braid, the same colour, round the bottom, and a white silk scarf, with a dark blue hood, and just a little rosette of white lace at the top of it. Aunt Kezia's hood was a hood, too, and was tied under her chin as if she meant it to be some good.
"My dear, if you are," was my Aunt Kezia's reply, more solemn than ever, "the only wedding present that I shall be conscientiously able to give to those four misguided men will be a rope a-piece to hang themselves with." "Oh dear! I do wish she would not!" said Fanny in a plaintive whisper behind me.
I think I shall try and put the notion into my Aunt Kezia's head to have the Bracewells here for Christmas. I know Angus and Flora will be here then, and later. That would make a decent party, if we got Ephraim Hebblethwaite, and Ambrose Catterall too. After all, I went on writing so late, that I only got down-stairs in time to see Ambrose Catterall's back as he went down the drive.
Oh dear! but if one were for ever sifting one's thoughts in that way, why, it would be just dreadful! Not many people are careful about their words, but one's thoughts! No, I don't think I could do it, really. I suppose my Aunt Kezia would say I ought. I do so dislike my Aunt Kezia's oughts. She always thinks you ought to do just what you do not want.
When I had written so far, I turned back to look at my Aunt Kezia's rules. And then I saw how foolish I am. Why, instead of putting the Lord first, I had been leaving Him out of the whole thing. Could He not carry all these cares for me? Did He not know what ailed Hatty, and how to deliver Angus, and all about it?
Had it not been for her, Owen would probably have had to wear his clothes into rags. Mr Fluke would certainly not have remarked their tattered condition. Notwithstanding all Kezia's care, however, Owen's health did not mend. Months went by, he was kept as hard at work as ever. Kezia expostulated. At last Mr Fluke agreed to give him some work in the open air.
"What are we to expect if we stop here?" asked Sophy, in a hard, dry voice. "That is more than I can say," was my Aunt Kezia's answer. "But who is it?" said Fanny, in the same bewildered way. "O Fanny, what a bat you are!" cried Hatty. "I wonder you ask," answered Sophy. "I have seen her fishing-rod for ever so long. Cecilia, of course." "Cecilia!" screamed Fanny.
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