,
especially of her mouth, with which she seemed to follow the movements
of her needle, was stitching up a sleeve of her new frock which Miss
Dorset had sent her, and which a poor dress-maker, who "went out," was
at this moment making up in the schoolroom; while Ursula was still busy
with the basket of stockings which she had found awaiting her on their
return. What Reginald was doing at the writing-table was probably a
great deal less useful, but the girls respected his occupation as no one
ever thought of respecting theirs, and carried on their conversation
under their breath, not to interrupt him. The little children had gone
to bed, tea was over, and several hours of the long winter evening still
before them. Janey had given over lessons, partly because there was no
one to insist upon her doing them. Once in a week or so her father gave
her a lecture for her ignorance, and ordered her into his study to do a
long sum in arithmetic out of the first old "Colenso" that could be
picked up; and about once a week too, awakening suddenly to a sense of
her own deficiencies, she would "practise" energetically on the old
piano. This was all that was being done for Janey in the way of
education. She was fifteen, and as Johnnie, and Amy, and Robin were at
an age when school is a necessity, the only retrenchment possible was to
keep Janey at home. Ursula had got what education she possessed in the
same irregular way. It was not much. Besides reading and writing, she
had pretty manners, which came by nature like those other gifts. A girl
is not so badly off who can read and write and has pretty manners. Janey
possessed the two first faculties, but neither had nor apparently could
acquire the third. The two dark brown heads were close together as they
worked--Ursula's shining and neat, and carefully arranged, Janey's rough
with elf-locks; but they were more interesting than Reginald, though he
was so much better informed. As for Johnnie, he lay extended on the rug,
his head slightly raised on his two hands, his book on a level with the
rest of his person, saying over his lesson to himself with moving lips.
And now and then, when the girls' whispered chatter was silent, the
sound of Reginald's pen scratching across the paper would fill up the
interval; it was a sound which filled them all with respect.

This peaceful domestic scene was broken in upon by the entry of Mr. May.
From the moment that he closed the hall-door behind him, co