round abruptly, and walked out of the room without another word. But
I was quite well satisfied and triumphant. When Deborah baked girdle
cakes, she meant the warmest of welcomes, and no end of honor to
Uncle Geoffrey's guests.

"Humph! girdle cakes!" observed Uncle Geoffrey, with a smile, as he
regarded them. "Deb is in a first-rate humor, then. You have played
your cards well, old lady," and his eyes twinkled merrily.

I went into the kitchen after tea, and had another long talk with
Deborah. Dear old kitchen! How many happy hours we children had spent
in it! It was very low and dark, and its two windows looked out on
the stable-yard; but in the evening, when the fire burned clear and
the blinds were drawn, it was a pleasant place. Deborah and Martha
used to sit in the brown Windsor chairs knitting, with Puff, the
great tabby cat, beside them, and the firelight would play on the red
brick floor and snug crimson curtains.

Deborah and I had a grand talk that night. She was a trifle
obstinate and dogmatical, but we got on fairly well. To do her
justice, her chief care seemed to be that her master should not be
interfered with in any of his ways. "He will work harder than ever,"
she groaned, "now there are all these mouths to feed. He and Jumbles
will be fairly worn out."

But our talk contented me. I had enlisted Deborah's sympathies on
our side. I felt the battle was over. I was only a "bit thing" as
Deborah herself called me, and I was tolerably tired when I went up
to my room that night.