nd wept.

"I thought it would ha' been either a death or an operation!" she sobbed.
"Will I ever get over it?"

CHAPTER VII

UP THE CHIMNEY

Granny had little idea of what an eventful morning it had been when the
children came to her in the afternoon, looking so nice and well-behaved, as
if they had done nothing but bite their little thumbs in the nursery from
the moment of their getting up till tea-time. Nurse Nancy had persisted in
carrying out her determination to leave her dear mistress in peaceful
ignorance of whatever terrifying episodes might develop during the sojourn
of the children in the house. She had suffered enough from their pranks in
the summer, and she must now be allowed to believe that they were grown as
serious and as quietly-behaved as any old people.

Fortunately the house was big and the walls were thick, and sounds must
needs be very loud indeed to penetrate to Madam's sanctuary, if care were
taken to keep them from reaching her ears.

When Terry appeared as usual in her white frock, with her little blue silk
work-bag, and with what Nurse Nancy called her "Mary" face, Granny said to
herself that the child was a sweet little lady; but remarked that Terry
looked pale. Was her clothing warm enough? Had she eaten a good dinner? No,
said Nancy, she hadn't eaten a good dinner, not to-day; but it was only
once, and for a wonder.

"Wait till you see what a tea she'll make, madam. Myself thinks children
sometimes hides their appetites in their pockets and brings them out again
when they get something they like."

In this way good old Nancy told the truth and didn't tell the truth, all to
save pain to Madam. But Terry hung her head. She was, as usual, longing to
confess everything that had happened, but kept silence through obedience to
Nurse Nancy. However, when she was invited to partake of the good things of
the tea-table, she did not fail to verify Nurse Nancy's prediction as to
the return of her appetite.

Indeed, all the troubles of the morning had been by this time removed so
far away that it seemed as if they must have happened a year ago. Lally had
sent her word that Jocko's knees were nearly all right, and that he
suffered no pain from them. Turly's head was in its usual place, and the
pot, being brass, was not even broken. Her practising had been done, and
Granny would have another fresh egg to-morrow morning for breakfast. So
there was no reason in the world why Terry should n