Читать книгу The Haven Children; or, Frolics at the Funny Old House on Funny Street онлайн

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“Oh, childerns the cars is riding in a steamboat,” and Daisy reminds Charlotte—

“This is the time Mamma said we were to dine.”

What a merry pic-nic now! Hannah, the cook’s, preparation of that basket was, indeed, a labor of love.

Such rolls, with a “plenty of butter!” Such “a many chicken-wings” and “drumsticks” to be picked!

Oh, Mamma! could you have the heart to deny poor Hannah the pleasure of “smuggling” in those tiny gooseberry tartlets?

Good old Hannah! it was the thought of the pleasure those unusual dainties would give the tired travellers, which moistened your eye as you stowed the basket in the carriage at the door, for you dearly love those bairnies, and have welcomed each one into the world of sorrow and gladness as you did the Mother-bird, in your younger days; and those dainty morsels are messages from your big heart, your own simple way of telling them how dear they are to those they have left behind. How you would have enjoyed the little dialogue which followed the swallowing of the last crumb!