She certainly succeeded. Alice, who never thought much
about beauty, had never told Margaret how pretty Mary was; and, as
she came in half-blushing at her own self-consciousness, Margaret
could hardly take her eyes off her, and Mary put down her long black
lashes with a sort of dislike of the very observation she had taken
such pains to secure. Can you fancy the bustle of Alice to make the
tea, to pour it out, and sweeten it to their liking, to help and
help again to clap-bread and bread and butter? Can you fancy the
delight with which she watched her piled-up clap-bread disappear
before the hungry girls and listened to the praises of her
home-remembered dainty?
"My mother used to send me some clap-bread by any north-country
person--bless her! She knew how good such things taste when far away
from home. Not but what every one likes it. When I was in service
my fellow-servants were always glad to share with me. Eh, it's a
long time ago, yon."
"Do tell us about it, Alice," said Margaret.
"Why, lass, there's nothing to tell. There was more mouths at home
than could be fed.
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