“Breakfast, Karen.  What’s to be had?”

“Breakfast?  La!” —­ said the old woman, —­ “if you had told me you’s coming —­ What do you expect I’ll have in the house for my breakfast, Governor?”

“Something —­,” said Winthrop, taking the tongs and settling the sticks of wood in the chimney to burn better.  Karen stood and looked at him.

“What have you got, Karen?” said Winthrop, setting up the tongs.

“I ha’n’t got nothing for company,” said Karen, grinning.

“That’ll do very well,” said Winthrop.  “Give me the coffee and I’ll make it; and you see to the bread, Karen.  You have milk and cream, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Governor.”

“And eggs?”

“La! yes.”

“Where are they?”

“Mr. Landholm, don’t trouble yourself, pray!” said Elizabeth.  “I am in no hurry for anything.  Pray don’t!”

“I don’t intend it,” said he.  “Don’t trouble your self.  Would you rather go into another room?”

Elizabeth would not; and therefore and thereafter kept herself quiet, watching the motions of Karen and her temporary master.  Karen seemed in a maze; but a few practical advices from Winthrop at last brought her back to the usual possession of her senses and faculties.

“Who is she?” Elizabeth heard her whisper as she began to bustle about.  And Winthrop’s answer, not whispered,

“How long ago do you suppose this coffee was parched?”

“No longer ago than yesterday.  La sakes!  Governor, —­ I’ll do some fresh for you if you want it.”

“No time for that, Karen.  You get on with those cakes.”

Elizabeth watched Winthrop with odd admiration and curiosity, mixed for the moment with not a little of gratified feeling; but the sense of desolation sitting back of all.  He seemed to have come out in a new character, or rather to have taken up an old one; for no one could suppose it worn for the first time.  Karen had been set to making cakes with all speed.  Winthrop seemed to have taken the rest of the breakfast upon himself.  He had found the whereabout of the eggs, and ground some coffee, and made it and set it to boil in Karen’s tin coffeepot.

“What are you after now, Mr. Winthrop?” said Karen, looking round from her pan and moulding board.  “These’ll be in the spider before your coffee’s boiled.”

“They’ll have to be quick, then,” said Winthrop, going on with his rummaging.

“What are you after, Governor? —­ there’s nothin’ there but the pots and kittles.”

One of which, however, Winthrop brought out as if it was the thing wanted, and put upon the fire with water in it.  Going back to the receptacle of ‘pots and kittles,’ he next came forth with the article Karen had designated as the ‘spider,’ and set that in order due upon its appropriate bed of coals.

“La sakes!  Governor!” said Karen, in a sort of fond admiration, —­ “ha’n’t you forgot nothin’?”