The words jumped out. The moment I had said them I was sorry, and when
I saw her poor startled face I could have cried. The slow red rose in
her cheeks; we stared into each other's eyes, and both spoke at the same
time. She said:--

"Oh-oh! Can you _hear_?"

I said:--

"Oh, I'm sorry! I should not have said it. Forgive me! I'm tired and
cross after nursing upstairs. I want to quarrel myself. I'm sorry!
I'll keep the children quiet. They will soon be going home. Please
always let me know if I'm a bother. I'll do everything I can!"

She looked at me--a puzzled look--and mumbled cold thanks. This was a
case when my apparent years were against me. If I had been Evelyn--a
girl like herself--we would have clasped hands and made friends. As it
was, she distrusted the elderly woman who showed an impulsiveness
foreign to her years. She departed hurriedly, leaving me plunged in
fresh woe.

A nice person _I_ am, to blame a man for having a bad temper! I have
hurt a sister woman, who has the hardest lot which any woman can have in
life--a loveless home!

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

MR MAPLESTONE IS PLEASED.

As a result of my suggestion, Mr Hallett has taken Mr Thorold to
several concerts, and as a crowning effort actually lured him to a
week-end at Brighton. That was last week; and as the day was mild and--
almost!--sunny, I suggested to the little girls that we should go
holiday-making on our own account, and pay a visit to the Zoo.

The proposal excited great enthusiasm, and an early lunch was ordered so
that we could set forth in good time, so as to have a couple of hours
with the animals before adjourning to a confectioner's for tea. I
remembered my own childhood too well to suggest returning home for the
meal. To drink tea out of strange cups, in a strange room, to have a
practically unlimited choice of strange cakes--this is a very orgie of
bliss to anything "in one figure," and when the tea is followed by a
drive home in a taxi, satisfaction approaches delirium. I remembered
Mr Thorold's pathetic "Make them happy!" and determined that, if it
were in my power, this should be a day to be remembered.

Lunch was finished, I dressed the little girls in their new hats and
coats, wriggled their fingers into new gloves, saw to it that there was
not a crease in their stockings nor a chink in the lacing of their
boots, and had just settled them on the sofa in the drawing-room to wait
quietly until I ru