"
Ellen laughed, for this was not the first time Mr. Van Brunt
had acted as cook for the family. While she got what he had
asked for, and bared a place on the table for his operations,
he went to the spout and washed his hands.
"Now, a sharp knife, Ellen, and the frying-pan and a dish —
and that's all I want of you."
Ellen brought them, and while he was busy with the ham, she
made the coffee, and set it by the side of the fire to boil;
got the cream and butter, and set the bread on the table; and
then set herself down to rest, and amuse herself with Mr. Van
Brunt's cookery. He was no mean hand: his slices of ham were
very artist-like, and frying away in the most unexceptionable
manner. Ellen watched him, and laughed at him, till the ham
was taken out and all the eggs broke in; then, after seeing
that the coffee was right, she went upstairs to dress her
grandmother — always the last thing before breakfast.
"Who's frying ham and eggs downstairs?" inquired Miss Fortune.
"Mr. Van Brunt," said Ellen.
This answer was unexpected. Miss Fortune tossed her head over
in a dissatisfied kind of way, and told Ellen to "tell him to
be careful."
"Of what?" thought Ellen; and wisely concluded with herself
not to deliver the message, very certain she should laugh if
she did, and she had running in her head an indistinct notion
of the command, "Honour thy father and thy mother.
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