Her father looked up with surprise as he said,-- "What! _already_, Lenora ?" "It has just struck half-past eleven, father." Without making any other remark, De Vlierbeck bent his head again over the music-paper and continued his task.
Lenora soon returned from her walk with her basket full of potatoes and something else tied up in a paper, which she hid beneath a napkin.

Then, pouring some water in a pot which she placed beside her chair, she began to sing, and threw in the potatoes as she peeled them.

After this she kindled a fire in the stove and set the pot of potatoes to boil.

After the fire burned well she put a skillet, with a little butter and a good deal of vinegar, over the coals.
Up to this moment her father had not looked up nor intermitted his work; he saw her getting dinner ready every day, and it was seldom that any variety of food appeared on their table.

But, hardly had the potatoes begun to boil, when an agreeable perfume was diffused through the chamber.