In the midst of this she was called down. She
rose with tears in her eyes, and "what shall I do?" in her
heart. Bowing her head once more, she earnestly prayed that if
she could not yet _feel_ right towards her aunt, she might be
kept at least from acting or speaking wrong. Poor Ellen! In
the heart is the spring of action; and she found it so this
morning.
Her aunt and Mr. Van Brunt were already at the table. Ellen
took her place in silence, for one look at her aunt's face
told her that no "good morning" would be accepted. Miss
Fortune was in a particularly bad humour, owing, among other
things, to Mr. Van Brunt's having refused to eat his breakfast
unless Ellen were called. An unlucky piece of kindness. She
neither spoke to Ellen nor looked at her; Mr. Van Brunt did
what in him lay to make amends. He helped her very carefully
to the cold pork and potatoes, and handed her the well-piled
platter of griddle-cakes.
"Here's the first buckwheats of the season," said he, — "and I
told Miss Fortune I warn't agoing to eat one on 'em if you
didn't come down to enjoy 'em along with us. Take two — take
two! — you want 'em to keep each other hot."
Ellen's look and smile thanked him, as, following his advice,
she covered one generous "buckwheat" with another as ample.
"That's the thing! Now, here's some prime maple. You like 'em,
I guess, don't you?"
"I don't know, yet — I have never seen any," said Ellen.
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