d of the long gallery,
but I had not the cruelty to say it to Flora.

When we came down the next morning, I was curious to peep into the
dining-room, just to see what it was like. The wreck of a ship is the
only thing I can think of, which might look like it. Half the chairs
were flung over in all directions, and two broken to pieces; a quantity
of broken glass was heaped both on the floor and the table; dark wine
stains on the carpet, and pools upon the table, not yet dry, were
sufficient signs of what the night had been. Bessy stood in the window,
duster in hand, picking up the chairs, and setting them in their places.

"Didn't the gentlemen enjoy theirselves, Miss Cary?" said she. "My
word, but they made a night on't! I'd like to ha' been wi' 'em, just
for to see!"

I made no answer beyond nodding my head. Flora's words came back to
me,--"It is well to take sin seriously." I could not laugh and jest, as
I dare say I should have done but for them.

When I came into the parlour, I only found three of all the gentlemen in
the house,--Father, Mr Keith, and Ambrose Catterall. I thought Father
seemed rather cross, and he was finding fault with everybody for
something. Sophy's hair was rough, and Hatty had put on a gown he did
not like, and Fanny's ruffle had a hole in it; and then he turned round
and scolded my Aunt Kezia for not having us in better order. My Aunt
Kezia said never a word, but I felt sure from her drawn brow and set
lips, as she stood making tea, that she could have said a great many.
Mr Keith was silent and grave. Ambrose Catterall seemed to think it
his duty to make fun for everybody, and he laughed and joked and
chattered away finely. I asked where old Mr Catterall was.

"Oh, in bed with a headache," laughed Ambrose, "like everybody else this
morning."

"Speak for yourself," said Mr Keith. "I have not one."

"Well, mine's going," returned Ambrose, gaily. "A cup of Mrs Kezia's
capital tea will finish it off."

"Finish what off?" asked my Aunt Kezia.

"My last night's headache," said he.

"That tea must have come from Heaven, then, instead of China," replied
she. "Nay, Ambrose Catterall; it will take blood to finish off the
consequence of your doings last night."

"Why, Mrs Kezia, are you going to fight me?" asked he, laughing.

"Young man, why don't you fight the Devil?" answered my Aunt Kezia,
looking him full in the face. "He does not pay good wages, Ambrose."

"Never saw