want to lay the table
presently. Come here, Queenie." She took the pillow case, and unpicked
a few stitches, which clearly indicated that the needle had been taking
giant strides. "Just hem that last inch or two again, and see if you
can't make it look nice. I believe the needle only stuck into your
finger because you were making it sew so badly. Have you got a
handkerchief?--but, of course, you haven't." She polished the fat,
tear-stained cheek with her own. "Now run and sit down again."

Queenie turned to go obediently enough--she was too young, and possibly
too fat, to plan, as yet, the deliberate malice in which her brother and
sister took their chief pleasure. Unfortunately, Wilfred arrived at the
end of Africa at the wrong moment for her. He pushed the atlas away from
him with a jerk that overturned the ink bottle, sending a stream of ink
towards Avice--who, shoving her chair backwards to escape the deluge,
cannoned into Queenie, and brought her headlong to the floor. Howls
broke out anew, mingled with a crisp interchange of abuse between the
elder pair, while Cecilia vainly sought to lessen the inky flood with a
duster. Upon this pleasant scene the door opened sharply.

"A nice way you keep order at lessons," said Mrs. Mark Rainham acidly.
"And the ink all over the cloth. Well, all I can say is, you'll pay for
a new one, Cecilia."

"I did not knock it over," said Cecilia, in a low tone.

"It's your business to look after the children, and see that they do not
destroy things," said her stepmother.

"The children will not obey me."

"Pouf!" said Mrs. Rainham. "A mere question of management. High-spirited
children want tact in dealing with them, that is all. You never
trouble to exercise any tact whatever." Her eyes dwelt fondly on her
high-spirited son, whose red head was bent attentively over Africa
while he traced a mighty mountain range along the course of the Nile.
"Wilfred, have you nearly finished your work?"

"Nearly, Mater," said the industrious Wilfred, manufacturing mountains
tirelessly. "Just got to stick in a few more things."

"Say 'put,' darling, not 'stick.' Cecilia, you might point out those
little details--that is, if you took any interest in their English."

"Thethilia thaid 'awfully' jutht now," said Queenie, in a shrill pipe.

"I don't doubt it," said Mrs. Rainham, bitterly. "Of course, anyone
brought up in Paris is too grand to trouble about English--but we think
a good deal of thes