CHAPTER THREEThe servants’ door to the dining room swung open slowly and Marjorie inched her way around it, balancing a large tray on her frail old arms.
Dorianna felt almost faint as she looked at the big silver tureen that rested on top of the tray.
She was feeling hungry and at last they were going to have something to eat.
Marjorie seemed to take forever to wend her way around the dining room, serving first Mama, then her Step-papa and finally making her way to Dorianna herself.
The old maid was not used to serving at table and her hands shook as she ladled a small helping of thick soup into Dorianna’s bowl.
“What kind of soup is it?” she whispered, so that no one else could hear.
“I think it’s potato, Miss Dorianna. I did see cook putting lots of pepper in, so perhaps it won’t t
