and I quite understood that he had not taken a fancy to Mrs. Partridge,
and I squeezed his again to say I hadn't either.

We hated being called master and missy, and of all things Racey hated
being called "baby." Oh how angry he would have been if he had been
awake! And then I didn't like her speaking of papa and mother in that
sort of way, as if she would have liked us to say they were very ill
indeed--she had such a whiney way of talking. But of course we were
quite civil to her; we only squeezed each other's hands, and nobody
could see that.

Mrs. Partridge opened a door on the right side of the hall. It led into
the dining-room. A nice fire was burning there, but still it did not
look cheerful--"not a bit," I said to myself again--that thought was
_always_ coming into my head--"not a bit like our dining-room at home."
But still it was nice to see a fire, and Tom and I, still holding each
other's hands, went up to it and stood on the rug looking at the
pleasant blaze.

"You've had a cold journey I'm afraid," said Mrs. Partridge.

"Yes, ma'am, very," said Tom, who fancied she was speaking to him. He
blinked his eyes as he looked up to her, for he had been asleep in the
train, and coming into the light was dazzling.

[Illustration: "Dear me," said Mrs Partridge at once, "what weak eyes he
has!"]

"Dear me," said Mrs. Partridge at once, "what weak eyes he has! What do
you do for them, nurse? He must take them of his mamma, for our young
gentlemen always had lovely eyes."

"I'm sure he doesn't get ugly eyes from mother," I said indignantly.
"Mother has beautiful eyes, and Tom has nice eyes too. They're not
weak."

"Deary me, deary me," exclaimed Mrs. Partridge, "what a very
sharp-spoken young lady! I'm sure no offence was meant, only I was sorry
to see little master's eyes so red. Don't they hurt you, my dear?"

"No thank you, ma'am," said Tom, still holding my hand very tight.

He didn't quite understand what had been said. He was a very little boy
and very sleepy. I wondered what made him say "ma'am" to Mrs. Partridge,
for of course he never did in speaking to ladies. I think it must have
been some confused remembrance of our playing at ladies, for Mrs.
Partridge had a sort of peepy way of talking, something like the way we
did when we were pretending ladies.

Pierson had said nothing. I don't think _she_ liked what the old
housekeeper said about mother's eyes any better than I did, but she was
vexed with