scrub and scour for you I'll do it on my knees so as only
I can dance with her in the Flora."

During this speech Mrs. Veale had risen to the full height and width of
the black silk, feeling that thus only could she cope adequately with
such a flood of ill-regulated and unseemly passions. She felt deeply
wounded to think that any girl of her teaching should so betray it as
this one did in every undisciplined word. She had not felt such a bitter
stab of disappointment since a trusted and loved old nurse of the family
had been found drinking the Vicar's port.

"Loveday Strick," she said, "you are forgetting yourself."

This was not exact, for Loveday had forgotten Mrs. Veale, but the rebuke
drenched the impetuous girl like a cold wave. She stood defenceless.

"I have not comprehended half this mad tale of yours," continued Mrs.
Veale, "but I gather you have the presumption to say that Miss Le
Pettit--_Miss Le Pettit_--has said you may dance with her at the
Flora. Perhaps a young lady in her exalted position, and of what I
believe are her modernising tendencies, may have formed such a project,
but you should have known better than to have presumed on such an
unsuitable condescension. As to a white satin sash, I can imagine
nothing more unfitted for a girl in your unfortunate position, of which
I am very sorry to be obliged to remind you. I had always hoped you
would never forget it."

"Ma'am ... you don't understand ..." began Loveday.

"That is quite enough, Loveday. Let me hear no more on the subject. If
you still want work, apart from this desire for unsuitable finery, since
you are my god-daughter I will forget what has passed and still try you
at the spring cleaning."

Then it was that a horrid thing happened to Loveday.

"What do I care for you and your spring-cleaning?" she stormed, "you and
it can go up the chimney together for all I care. I only wanted you to
give me work so as to get my satin sash, and I'll never come near you or
church again as long as I do live. That I won't...." And Loveday turned
and ran out of the front door, beneath the grinning fox, and not only
ran out of the front door, but banged it behind her.

Maids in the kitchen heard that unseemly sound, as they had heard,
awe-struck, the raised voice, and Mrs. Veale felt she must read them a
short but fitting lesson on the dire results of wanting things beyond
one's station. The stout cook and the crisp housemaid soon knew of
Loveday's