ma, do listen! What can be the
matter?"

They were just climbing the little bit of steep road which led to the
farm, and suddenly they heard somebody roaring and screaming, and then
an angry voice scolding, and then a great clatter, and then louder
roaring than ever.

"What _is_ the matter?" cried Milly, running on to the farm door, which
was open. But just as she got there, out rushed a tattered little figure
with a tear-stained face, and hair flying behind.

"Tiza!" cried Milly, trying to stop her. But Tiza ran past her as quick
as lightning down the garden path towards the cherry tree, and in
another minute, in spite of the shower of wet she shook down on herself
as she climbed up, she was sitting high and safe among the branches,
where there was no catching her nor even seeing her.

"Ay, that's the best place for ye," said Mrs. Backhouse, appearing at
the door with an angry face, "you'll not get into so much mischief there
perhaps as you will indoors. Oh, is that you, Miss Elliot (that was Aunt
Emma's surname)? Walk in please, ma'am, though you'll find me sadly
untidy this afternoon. Tiza's been at her tricks again; she keeps me
sweeping up after her all day. Just look here, if you please, ma'am."

Aunt Emma went in, and the children pressed in after her, full of
curiosity to see what crime Tiza had been committing. Poor Mrs.
Backhouse! all over her clean kitchen floor there were streams of water
running about, with little pieces of cabbage and carrot sticking up in
them here and there, while on the kitchen table lay a heap of meat and
vegetables, which Mrs. Backhouse had evidently just picked up out of the
grate before Aunt Emma and the children arrived.

"Yes," said Mrs. Backhouse, pointing to the floor, "there's the supper
just spoilt. Tiza's never easy but when she's in mischief. I'm sure
these wet days I have'nt known what to do with her indoors all day. And
what must she do this afternoon but tie her tin mug to the cat's tail,
till the poor creature was nearly beside herself with fright, and went
rushing about upstairs like a mad thing. And then, just when I happened
to be out a minute looking after something, she lets the cat in here,
and the poor thing jumps into the saucepan I had just put on with the
broth for our supper, and in her fright and all turns it right over. And
now look at my grate, and the fender, and the floor, and the meat there
all messed! I expect her father'll give Tiza a good beatin