She was now complaining that some white
young'uns had called her "raving Rose." She hoped "God'lmighty would
send down two she bears and eat 'em up." Peter was amazed by the old
crone's ability to maintain an unending flow of concentrated and aimless
virulence.
The kitchen of the Renfrew manor was a separate building, and presently
Peter saw old Rose carrying great platters across the weed-grown
compound into the dining-room. She bore plate after plate piled high
with cookery,--enough for a company of men. A little later came a
clangor on a rusty triangle, as if she were summoning a house party. Old
Rose did things in a wholesale spirit.
Peter started for his door, but when he had opened the shutter, he stood
hesitating. Breakfast introduced another delicate problem. He decided
not to go to the dining-room at once, but to wait and allow Captain
Renfrew to indicate whether he, Peter, should break his fast with the
master in the dining-room or with old Rose in the kitchen.
A moment later he saw the Captain coming down the long back piazza.
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