Anne turned round and looked at her friend surprised. "Never set t' table before? Why! Did ye 'ave a maid?" Hadn't Mable said that she too was poor!? Anne turned back to the kitchen range and scraped some of the ashes out of the tray, before adding some tinder to the slowly increasing glow.

“Wha - a maid?”. Mable couldn’t help but laugh. “No, Anne, not at all! It’s just… oh, well, don’t think poorly of me for this, but I never got to eat at the table much growing up. My brother and I would have picnics on towels, or just eat outside by the creak.”

Mable watched her friend clean away ash and handed her wood to replace it. Meanwhile, she was trying her hardest to remember how her brother had set the table the few times they had eaten at it, or if he even did.

"Oh..." Anne smiled at her before turning back to the fire. "I don't think poorly of ye. That actually sounds really nice. What did ye do in winter though?" She took the wood but laid it aside in favour of some smaller branches. Then she got up. "'Ere.. Sit down. I'll show ye." And she took out five plates and set them ready.

"We'd snuggle up close to each other," Mable giggled, "or build a small fire.  My brother always knew what to do to keep us nice and safe."

Feeling a little sheepish, Mable sat where Anne had told her to and watched her friend carefully.  If she was going to learn to properly set a table, she was going to pay very close and careful attention so she'd not forget for the next time.