"Sakes!" said Hannah.
I went close to her and dexterously put out my hand and removed the
cotton-wool from her ear.
"Miss Dumps, how dare you?"
"I want my dinner," I said.
"Sakes! What with frying chops for the Professor, and him going off in
a hurry, why, my head is in a moil."
"Hannah," I said, "I must have some food. I am awfully hungry."
"Well, set down right there by the kitchen table and I'll give you
another chop," said Hannah. "I hear the Professor's not coming back
to-night. It's the very queerest thing I remember happening since your
poor mother died. But you set there and I'll grill a chop for you, and
you shall have it piping hot, and potatoes as well. There, now, what do
you say to that?"
I thought I would oblige Hannah to any extent with the prospect of such
a meal in front of me, and accordingly I sat down while she prepared the
chop and potatoes. Presently she brought them to me, and I ate them
with the satisfaction which only a hungry schoolgirl can feel when she
is seldom given a satisfying meal.
"Master said to me just before he left, `Tidy up the house a bit,
Hannah.' Never heard him make such a remark before in all my life since
your poor mother were took."
"You remember mother very well, don't you, Hannah?"
"Bless her! yes, I have memories."
Hannah looked very thoughtful.
"Do sit down," I said. "You and I are alone in the house."
"You are her mortal image," said Hannah as she sank into her chair.
"I like mother?"
"Not in face, but in ways. You have a sort of coaxing way with you, and
your temper is good--I will say that. But God only knows who you hark
back with regard to face, for you are plain, Dumps, there's no doubt of
that."
"So every one says--that is, every one except Mr Von Marlo."
"That queer Dutch boy--that foreigner? Nobody minds what foreigners
say."
"Still, it is nice sometimes, by somebody, to be called even fairly
good-looking," I responded.
"Maybe you're in Dutch style," said Hannah. "I always was told they had
flattened-out faces, same as the Dutch dolls, you know."
This remark was scarcely flattering; but then Hannah, on principle,
never did flatter.
"Tell me about mother," I said. "What was she really like?"
"Mr Alex takes after her. Eyes blue as the sky, a tender, gentle face,
rather tall, rather slim, the sweetest of voices."
"Why did she die?" I asked.
My own voice trembled.
"Killed, child--killed."
"Killed?" I exclaimed. "I never heard that."
"Oh, there are ways of doing the job! She weren't killed by any
accident--not by fire, nor by water, nor by a street accident--but just
she wanted what she couldn't get."
"And what was that?"
"Why, the understanding of the sort of man she had married. He is real
good is the Professor, downright good at heart, but he wanted a
different sort of wife from your mother, some one as could rouse him and
take him by the shoulders and shake him. That's the sort he wanted, and
she weren't the kind. So, you see, she hadn't enough sunshine, and
by-and-by the want of sunshine killed her. Yes, she were killed if ever
a woman were killed; yes, that's it--killed."