She thought it was the
loveliest place she had ever seen. And that sparkling,
trickling water was certainly the purest and sweetest she had
ever tasted. Where could it come from? It poured from a small
trough, made of the split trunk of a tree, with a little
groove or channel, two inches wide, hollowed out in it. But at
the end of one of these troughs, another lapped on, and
another at the end of that; and how many there were, Ellen
could not see, nor where the beginning of them was. Ellen
stood gazing and wondering, drinking in the fresh air, hope
and spirits rising every minute, when she suddenly recollected
breakfast! She hurried in. As she expected, her aunt was at
the table; but to her surprise, and not at all to her
gratification, there was Mr. Van Brunt at the other end of it,
eating away, very much at home indeed. In silent dismay, Ellen
drew her chair to the side of the table.
"Did you find the spout?" asked Miss Fortune.
"Yes, Ma’am."
"Well, how do you like it?"
"Oh, I like it very much indeed," said Ellen. "I think it is
beautiful."
Miss Fortune's face rather softened at this, and she gave
Ellen an abundant supply of all that was on the table. Her
journey, the bracing air, and her cool morning wash,
altogether, had made Ellen very sharp, and she did justice to
the breakfast. She thought never was coffee so good as this
country coffee; nor anything so excellent as the brown bread
and butter, both as sweet as bread and butter could be;
neither was any cookery so entirely satisfactory as Miss
Fortune's fried pork and potatoes.
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