ishes, and left the room. If it did not, they would
hear all about it later. Their father's anger held no terrors for them,
unless it was directed against themselves, and even then considerably
less than might have been supposed. He was often angry, or appeared to
be, but he never did anything. Even in the memorable upheaval of seven
years before--when Walter had finally refused to become a clergyman and
announced his determination of becoming a doctor--which had been so
unlike anything that had ever happened within their knowledge that it
had impressed itself even upon their infant minds, and of which they had
long since worried all the details out of Cicely, he had made a great
deal of noise but had given way in the end. He would give way now,
however completely he might lose his temper in the process. The twins
had no fear of a catastrophe, and therefore looked forward with
interest, as they knelt side by side, with their plump chins propped on
their plump hands, to the coming storm.

The storm broke, as anticipated, when the servants had finally left the
room, and the Squire had ranged over the silver dishes on the side-table
for one to his liking, a search in which he was unsuccessful.

"I wish you would tell Barnes that if she can't think of anything for
breakfast but bacon, and scrambled eggs, and whiting, and mushrooms, she
had better go, and the sooner the better," he said, bending a terrifying
frown on his wife. "Same thing day after day!" But he piled a plate with
bacon and eggs and mushrooms and carried it off to his seat, while his
daughters and Miss Bird waited round him until he had helped himself.

"I have just had a letter from Walter," he began directly he had taken
his seat, "which makes me so angry that, 'pon my word, I scarcely know
what to do. Nina, this milk is burnt. Barnes shall go. She sends up food
fit for the pig-tub. Why can't you see that the women servants do their
duty? I can't take _everything_ on my shoulders. God knows I've got
enough to put up with as it is."

"Joan, ring the bell," said Mrs. Clinton.

"Oh--God's sake--no, no," fussed the Squire. "I don't want the servants
in. Give me some tea. Miss Bird, here's my cup, please. Take it, please,
_take_ it, Miss Bird. I don't know when I've felt so annoyed. You do all
you can and put yourself to an infinity of trouble and expense for the
sake of your children, and then they behave like this. Really, Walter
wants a good thrashing to