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The Duke Sent Her His 3 Old Aunts for Winter — By Easter His Duchess Begged a Seat at Their Table

The Duke Sent Her His 3 Old Aunts for Winter — By Easter His Duchess Begged a Seat at Their Table

Chapter 6

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Abel looked at Dorcas in her faded silk, stood up, and gave her a bow—a clumsy one, the only one he knew. "Ma'am," he said.When he had gone, Honoria said, "That man would pay for that dinner. Not much, but every Sunday.""He hasn't got it to pay," Maud said."He has got a penny," said Honoria. "Every man in this parish has got a penny on a Sunday. And a penny from twenty men is more than your oven earns you sitting cold." She took a stub of pencil from her pocket and began to write on the back of an old almanac. "Sunday dinners, a penny a plate. I shall do the buying. Dorcas will do the cooking. Winifred will make them feel welcome, which she does better than any of us. And you, Mrs. Lowry, will mend the oven."So Maud mended the oven. She mixed clay and lime and sand in a bucket, lay on her back on the cold oven floor with a candle beside her, and packed the crack with her fingers until it was smooth and her hair was gray with it. She mended the short leg of the bench with a piece of ash Abel brought her. She took the sack out of the back window and put in a pane of glass that Honoria had bargained for from Mr. Tebbutt himself, standing at his counter for half an hour and not moving until he came down to her price.On the first Sunday, six men came to the kitchen door with their caps in their hands and a penny each, sat at the long table, and were fed. On the second Sunday, there were eleven, and some of them brought their wives. By the fourth Sunday, they sat on the bench, and the chairs, and on upturned buckets in the yard with their bowls on their knees. And Winifred went between them with the bread and sang while she did it—old songs from the hall, in a voice that was cracked a little at the top and sweet all through. And the women cried, and so did one or two of the men.The pennies went into a blue jug on the dresser. Every Sunday night, Honoria tipped them out, counted them into little towers, bought the next week's meat, and put the rest by for the roof.By All Saints, the back kitchen roof was mended, and the flour bin was dry.By Martinmas, the curate came. He was a thin, earnest man of thirty-four, and he had heard about the soup from Abel's wife. He was sitting next to Dorcas when she served the beef—which was only shin, but stewed for hours with onions and a little dark ale until it fell apart under the spoon. He ate it in silence.
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The Duke Sent Her His 3 Old Aunts for Winter — By Easter His Duchess Begged a Seat at Their Table

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