tly on a side table.

"Cream _and_ sugar?" said Mrs. Hill nervously.

"Yes, thank you," said Joanna. She felt a little disconcerted by this
new household of which she found herself a member. She wondered what
Bertie's mother and sister thought of his middle-aged bride.

For a time they all sat round in silence. Joanna covertly surveyed the
drawing-room. It was not unlike the parlour at Ansdore, but everything
looked cheaper--they couldn't have given more than ten pound for their
carpet, and she knew those fire-irons--six and eleven-three the set at
the ironmongers. These valuations helped to restore her self-confidence
and support the inspection which Agatha was conducting on her side.
"Reckon the price of my clothes ud buy everything in this room," she
thought to herself.

"Did you have a comfortable journey, Miss Godden?" asked Mrs. Hill.

"You needn't call her Miss Godden, ma," said Albert, "she's going to be
one of the family."

"I had a fine journey," said Joanna, drowning Mrs. Hill's apologetic
twitter, "the train came the whole of sixty miles with only one stop."

Agatha giggled, and Bertie stabbed her with a furious glance.

"Did you make this tea?" he asked.

"No--She made it."

"I might have thought as much. That girl can't make tea any better than
the cat. You reelly might make it yourself when we have visitors."

"I hadn't time. I've only just come in."

"You seem to be out a great deal."

"I've my living to get."

Joanna played with her teaspoon. She felt ill at ease, though it would
be difficult to say why. She had quarrelled too often with Ellen to be
surprised at any family disagreements--it was not ten years since she
had thought nothing of smacking Ellen before a disconcerted public.

What was there different--and there was something different--about this
wrangle between a brother and sister, that it should upset her so--upset
her so much that for some unaccountable reason she should feel the tears
running out of her eyes.

On solemn ceremonial occasions Joanna always wore a veil, and this was
now pushed up in several folds, to facilitate tea-drinking. She could
feel the tears wetting it, so that it stuck to her cheeks under her
eyes. She was furious with herself, but she could not stop the
tears--she felt oddly weak and shaken. Agatha had flounced off with the
teapot to make a fresh brew, Albert was leaning gloomily back in his
chair with his hands in his pockets, Mrs. Hill was murm