t
was at hand. The great struggle arose out of that old point of debate,
the servant's meals. Mrs. Cross, stealing into the kitchen, had caught
a glimpse of Sarah's dinner, and so amazed was she, so stirred with
indignation to the depth of her soul, that she cast off all show of
respect for the new order, and overwhelmed Bertha with rebukes. Her
daughter listened quietly until the torrent had spent its force, then
said with a smile:

"Is this how you keep your promise, mother?"

"Promise? Did I promise to look on at wicked waste? Do you want to
bring us to the workhouse, child?"

"Don't let us waste time in talking about what we settled a month ago,"
replied Bertha decisively. "Sarah is doing very well, and there must be
no change. I am quite content to pay her wages myself. Keep your
promise, mother, and let us live quietly and decently."

"If you call it living decently to pamper a servant until she bursts
with insolence--"

"When was Sarah insolent to you? She has never been disrespectful to
me. Quite the contrary, I think her a very good servant indeed. You
know that I have a good deal of work to do just now, and--to speak
quite plainly--I can't let you upset the orderly life of the house. Be
quiet, there's a dear. I insist upon it."

Speaking thus, Bertha laid her hands on her mother's shoulders, and
looked into the foolish, angry face so steadily, so imperturbably, with
such a light of true kindness in her gentle eyes, yet at the same time
such resolution about the well-drawn lips that Mrs. Cross had no choice
but to submit. Grumbling she turned; sullenly she held her tongue for
the rest of the day; but Bertha, at all events for a time, had
conquered.

The Crosses knew little and saw less of their kith and kin. With her
husband's family, Mrs. Cross had naturally been on cold terms from an
early period of her married life; she held no communication with any of
the name, and always gave Bertha to understand that, in one way or
another, the paternal uncles and aunts had "behaved very badly." Of her
own blood, she had only a brother ten years younger than herself, who
was an estate agent at Worcester. Some seven years had elapsed since
their last meeting, on which occasion Mrs. Cross had a little
difference of opinion with her sister-in-law. James Rawlings was now a
widower, with three children, and during the past year or two not
unfriendly letters had been exchanged between Worcester and Walham
Green. Utte