She said, if no one wanted her, she would read a
chapter of "The Vicar of Wakefield," and retired upstairs. Robina
and I had an egg with our tea; Mr. Slee arrived as we had finished,
and I took him straight into the kitchen. He was a large man, with a
dreamy expression and a habit of sighing. He sighed when he saw our
kitchen.
"There's four days' work for three men here," he said, "and you'll
want a new stove. Lord! what trouble children can be!"
Robina agreed with him.
"Meanwhile," she demanded, "how am I to cook?"
"Myself, missie," sighed Mr. Slee, "I don't see how you are going to
cook."
"We'll all have to tramp home again," thought Dick.
"And tell Little Mother the reason, and frighten her out of her
life!" retorted Robina indignantly.
Robina had other ideas. Mr. Slee departed, promising that work
should be commenced at seven o'clock on Monday morning. Robina, the
door closed, began to talk.
"Let Pa have a sandwich," said Robina, "and catch the six-fifteen."
"We might all have a sandwich," suggested Dick; "I could do with one
myself."
"Pa can explain," said Robina, "that he has been called back to town
on business. That will account for everything, and Little Mother
will not be alarmed."
"She won't believe that business has brought him back at nine o'clock
on a Saturday night," argued Dick; "you think that Little Mother
hasn't any sense. She'll see there's something up, and ask a hundred
questions.
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