"Confounded mismanagement;" and he rode on.
"He's right," thought Hertha; but she could no longer muster up a
feeling of complete triumph.
The breakfast-bell sounded, and, hesitatingly, she turned her steps
towards the house.
"Let what may happen," she said to herself, "he won't eat me."
And so she entered the breakfast-room bravely and full of good
intentions.
A silent group was gathered there. He sat in the master's place with
his head bowed in his hands, his morning paper spread out on the table.
He was not reading it, but gazing before him, lost in thought. Elly, in
white nainsook and blue ribbons (like a May Queen, thought Hertha,
jealously), had folded her hands in her lap, and wore an indescribably
dashed expression. Grandmamma, with sighs, was brewing the coffee;
mamma was not there.