"
"Mother," announced Stella, "I'm perfectly certain you'll
have both."
"I'll consider it," replied her mother. "Meanwhile we
would be better employed in thinking of what we have been
hearing. That's the third sermon from the Book of Job in
six weeks. I must say, with the whole of the two Testaments
to select from, I don't see why the Doctor should be so
taken up with Job."
Stella was vindicated; Mrs Murchison did have both. The
chicken salad gleamed at one end of the table and the
scalloped oysters smoked delicious at the other. Lorne
had charge of the cold tongue and Advena was entrusted
with the pickled pears. The rest of the family were
expected to think about the tea biscuits and the cake,
for Lobelia had never yet had a successor that was any
hand with company. Mrs Murchison had enough to do to pour
out the tea. It was a table to do anybody credit, with
its glossy damask and the old-fashioned silver and best
china that Mrs Murchison had brought as a bride to her
housekeeping--for, thank goodness, her mother had known
what was what in such matters--a generous attractive
table that you took some satisfaction in looking at. Mrs
Murchison came of a family of noted housekeepers; where
she got her charm I don't know. Six-o'clock tea, and that
the last meal in the day, was the rule in Elgin, and a
good enough rule for Mrs Murchison, who had no patience
with the innovation of a late dinner recently adopted by
some people who could keep neither their servants nor
their digestions in consequence.
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