"She's rather a pretty child--doesn't look very
strong. The boy is quite a handsome fellow, of nine or ten. Oh, it's all
right, of course, and I've no doubt Doctor Churchill will be glad to see
any relatives of his family. Only--if it needn't have happened just
to-day!"
"I know how you feel," said the housekeeper. "Here, let me fix that
tray, Miss Celia; you've done enough. I suppose we've got to feed 'em
and give 'em a room. Ain't it too bad to put them in that nice spare
room? No, I don't believe the doctor'll be powerful pleased to see 'em,
though I don't suppose he'll let on he ain't. Trouble is, she's a
stayer--one of the visiting kind, you know. Mis' Churchill, doctor's
mother, used to have her there by the month. _There_ was what you may
call a genuine lady, Miss Celia. She'd never let a guest feel he wasn't
welcome, and I guess Andy--I guess the doctor's pretty much like her.
Well, well!"
Mrs. Fields sighed, and Celia echoed the sigh. Nevertheless, the little
hint about Doctor Churchill's mother took hold.
Celia knew what Southern hospitality meant. If Mrs. Peyton had been
accustomed to that, it must be a matter of pride not to let her feel
that Northern homes were cold and comfortless places by comparison.
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