uring--"I hope
you like fancy-work--I am very fond of fancy-work--I have made a worsted
kitten." Joanna could feel the tears soaking through her veil, running
down her cheeks--she could not stop them--and the next moment she heard
Bertie's voice, high and aggrieved--"What are you crying for, Jo?"

Directly she heard it, it seemed to be the thing she had been dreading
most. She could bear no more, and burst into passionate weeping.

They all gathered round her, Agatha with the new teapot, Mrs. Hill with
her worsted, Bertie patting her on the back and asking what was the
matter.

"I don't know," she sobbed--"I expect I'm tired, and I ain't used to
travelling."

"Yes, I expect you must be tired--have a fresh cup of tea," said Agatha
kindly.

"And then go upstairs and have a good lay down," said Mrs. Hill.

Joanna felt vaguely that Albert was ashamed of her. She was certainly
ashamed of herself and of this entirely new, surprising conduct.

Sec.27

By supper that night she had recovered, and remembered her breakdown
rather as a bad dream, but neither that evening nor the next day could
she quite shake off the feeling of strangeness and depression. She had
never imagined that she would like town life, but she had thought that
the unpleasantness of living in streets would be lost in the
companionship of the man she loved--and she was disappointed to find
that this was not so. Bertie, indeed, rather added to than took away
from her uneasiness. He did not seem to fit into the Hill household any
better than she did--in fact, none of the members fitted. Bertie and
Agatha clashed openly, and Mrs. Hill was lost. The house was like a
broken machine, full of disconnected parts, which rattled and fell
about. Joanna was used to family quarrels, but she was not used to
family disunion--moreover, though she would have allowed much between
brother and sister, she had certain very definite notions as to the
respect due to a mother. Both Bertie and Agatha were continually
suppressing and finding fault with Mrs. Hill, and of the two Bertie was
the worst offender. Joanna could not excuse him, even to her own
all-too-ready heart. The only thing she could say was that it was most
likely Mrs. Hill's own fault--her not having raised him properly.

Every day he went off to his office in Fetter Lane, leaving Joanna to
the unrelieved society of his mother, for which he apologised profusely.
Indeed, she found her days a little dreary