om. Mrs.
Handsomebody was standing in the doorway. I had never seen her with so high
a colour.

"You will remain in that chair," she commanded, "until tea time. Do not
loll on the bed. And you may rest assured that I shall leave no stone
unturned till I have discovered every detail of this prank. It is at such
times as these that I regret ever having undertaken the charge of three
such unruly boys. It is only the high regard in which I hold your father
that makes it tolerable. I hope you will take advantage of your solitude to
review thoroughly your past."

She closed the door with deliberate forebearance, then I heard the key
click in the lock and her inexorable retreating footsteps.

I found my wad of a handkerchief and rubbed my cheeks. I had stopped crying
but my body still was shaken. For a long time I sat staring straight before
me busy with plans for the afternoon. Then I fell asleep.

A soft thumping on the panel of the door roused me at last. I felt stiff
and rather desolate.

"John!" It was The Seraph's voice. "I say, John! You should be a dwagon,
an' when I kick on the door you should woar fwightfully."

"Where's _she_?" 'Twas thus we designated our governess.

"Gone away out. Will you be a dwagon, John?"

Obligingly I dropped to my hands and knees and ambled to the door. The
Seraph kicked it vigorously and I began to roar. I was pleased to find that
so much crying had left my voice very husky so that I could indeed roar
horribly. The louder The Seraph kicked the louder I roared. It was
exhausting, and I had had about enough of it when I heard Mary Ellen
pounding up the uncarpeted back stairs.

"If you kick that dure onct more--" she panted--"ye little tormint--I'll
put a tin ear on ye! As fer you, Masther John, 'tis yersilf has a voice
like young thunder!"

She unlocked the door and threw it wide open; Angel and The Seraph crowded
in after her. Mary Ellen's sleeves were rolled above her elbows, her red
face was covered with little beads of perspiration, and she wore large
goloshes. A savour of soap suds, mops, and the corners of old pantries,
emanated from her. She extended to me a moist palm on which lay a thick
slice of bread spread with cold veal gravy.

"This," said she, "is to stay ye till tea-time; an' now let me git back to
me scrubbin' or the suds'll be all dried up on me."

But I caught her apron and held her fast.

"Oh, don't go, Mary Ellen!" I begged, "I've something awfully interes