y was looking cross enough at that moment to daunt any ordinary
courage, but, somehow, Kitty never felt as alarmed of her as of Emily.

"Well, Fanny," she began, intending to ignore the hints and rumours that
had reached her, "we have got back. We were wet through nearly, and now
father and I are longing for our supper. Have you got something very
nice for us?" She tried to speak cheerfully, but it cost her a great
effort.

Fanny took up the poker and made an attack on the stove. "You never
ordered nothing, Miss Kitty, and 'tisn't my place to say what you should
have."

"Oh but, Fanny, you generally do," said Kitty, half inclined to be
indignant at Fanny's injustice, for she could not help remembering how
Fanny, as a rule, resented any attempt on her part to order or arrange
the meals. She knew, though, that her only chance now was to be
patient, and to ignore a good many things. "And you manage so well, so
much better than I can." She felt she must say something to restore
peace and amiability, if they were to have any supper at all that night,
and not incur greater disgrace than she had already.

"I don't want to boast," said Fanny, "'tisn't my nature to do so, but if
I'm gived a free hand, well--I can turn out a passable meal; but when
one doesn't like this and the other doesn't like that, and nothing I do
is right, and there's nothing but rows and squabblings in the kitchen,
and no peace nowhere--well, I gives it all up! P'r'aps somebody else
could manage better."

Fanny's voice rose more and more shrilly. Poor Kitty's head by this
time was aching badly, and her nerves were all on edge. "Fanny, what
_is_ the matter?" she asked despairingly. "What has happened while
we've been away? I thought we were coming home to a nice comfortable
meal and a happy evening, and when we drive up the house is all dark,
and the rain beating in at the windows. Emily is in a fury, and--and oh
it is all so miserable. I--I'd rather be out alone on the downs in the
storm without any home at all, or--or--" Here Kitty's voice faltered,
and once more the tears brimmed up in her eyes--a most unusual
occurrence with her; but the events of the day, the storm, and the
difficulties that beset her, were proving too much for her.

Fanny, hearing the break in her voice, looked round quickly, just in
time to see the tears, the white, tired face, and the look of dejection.
"Why, Miss Kitty," she cried, her soft heart touched at onc