The Kings Arrow | Page 9

just been
down helping some of those women with their children. They are
almost heart-broken, and I did what I could to cheer them up. I have
made up my mind that no matter how badly I feel, no one is to know
anything about it. I am going to forget my own troubles in helping
others. And, Mammy, I want you to do the same. If you talk to others
as you have been talking to me, it will make them more depressed than
ever. They need smiles, words of cheer, and a helping hand. And you
can do that, remember. Never mind about me, or admiring young men.
There are more serious things to think about just now."
"Land sakes, chile!" the colored woman exclaimed, holding up both
hands. "I nebber heard yo' talk dat way befo'. But I guess yo're right, an'
I'se ready to do what I kin. But here comes de Cun'l! An', oh, Missie
Jean, de Major's wif him! Dere won't be 'nuf waffles to go 'round, an'
de fire's 'most out. What in de world is I to do?"
"Never mind, Mammy," the girl comforted, "they have hardly time to
think about eating. Just give them what you have."

"But dese waffles are col', chile, an' I know how fond men are of eatin'.
Nuffin' kin make dem fergit dere stummicks."
Smiling at the colored woman's worries, Jean at once set to work to
renew the fire. There were a few hot coals, so by the time the men
arrived, she had the fire burning brightly, and Mammy was preparing to
cook an extra supply of waffles.
Colonel Sterling was a fine looking man. His white hair, flowing beard,
and commanding presence would have distinguished him in any
company. His face was genial, and his grey eyes shone with pleasure
and pride as they rested upon his daughter who now turned to meet
him.
"Is supper ready, dear?" he enquired, "I am hungry, and I know the
Major is, too."
"There is the supper," and Jean pointed to the dish of waffles. "But I'm
afraid it's not much for two hungry men. The Major, I am sure, will
find it pretty poor fare."
"Not at all, Miss Jean," the officer smilingly assured her. "I recall so
well the choice waffles I had at your old home in Stamford the last time
I visited there. And I am confident, too, that your excellent cook has
lost none of her skill since then."
He looked toward Mammy as he spoke, causing the faithful servant
almost to drop the iron she was holding, so great was her confusion at
such a compliment from so great a person.
Major Gilfred Studholme was the right man in the right place at this
critical time in the history of Portland Point. He had served with
distinction on behalf of his King in numerous engagements, and his
heart went out in sympathy to the thousands of refugees so suddenly
thrust upon him for protection. This soldier had held his post secure in
the face of hostile savages and lawless marauders, and he was equally
faithful now in the discharge of his duties to the newcomers.

Leaving Mammy to recover from her embarrassment and to continue
her cooking, Jean went into the little shack, the only home she now
knew, and brought forth a small table. This she placed near the door,
covered it with a white cloth, and again went inside for dishes. Her
supply of the latter was most meagre, as the rest had not been unpacked.
Her eyes grew a little misty as she recalled what the Major had said
about the last time he had been with them in their old home in Stamford.
She had a clear remembrance of that day, of the neatly-arranged table,
with fresh flowers in the centre, and the light of pleasure and
contentment upon her dear mother's face. What changes had taken
place since then! Her mother had been laid to rest, the old home was
gone, and they were exiles in a strange cruel land.
Hastily wiping her eyes with a delicately-embroidered handkerchief,
she collected a few dishes, and had just reached the door when she
suddenly stopped. Standing before the Major she saw a young man,
clad in the most peculiar manner she had ever seen. But his face and
bearing were what chiefly attracted her, while a pleasurable sensation,
such as she had never before experienced, swept through her being.
"I am Dane Norwood," the young man was saying, "and I bring a
message from William Davidson, the King's purveyor. Here it is," and
he handed forth a letter he had taken from the inside pocket of his
jacket.
"Are you in the King's service?" the Major asked as he