Fosdick was coming right up the street.
"She may not be considerate, but she's dreadful good company,"
said Mrs. Todd hastily, coming back a few steps from the
neighborhood of the gate. "No, she ain't a mite considerate, but
there's a small lobster left over from your tea; yes, it's a real
mercy there's a lobster. Susan Fosdick might just as well have
passed the compliment o' comin' an hour ago."
"Perhaps she has had her supper," I ventured to suggest,
sharing the housekeeper's anxiety, and meekly conscious of an
inconsiderate appetite for my own supper after a long expedition up
the bay. There were so few emergencies of any sort at Dunnet
Landing that this one appeared overwhelming.
"No, she's rode 'way over from Nahum Brayton's place. I
expect they were busy on the farm, and couldn't spare the horse in
proper season. You just sly out an' set the teakittle on again,
dear, an' drop in a good han'ful o' chips; the fire's all alive.
I'll take her right up to lay off her things, as she'll be occupied
with explanations an' gettin' her bunnit off, so you'll have plenty
o' time.
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