ill only
too soon; but I can't say that there'd be peace for long if that stupid
old woman was to keep on meddling."

We were all full of sympathy for Pierson, and indignant with Mrs.
Partridge.

"Never mind, Pierson," we said, "we won't take any notice of her. We'll
just do what _you_ tell us."

So breakfast was eaten in the most friendly spirit, and after breakfast,
our hands and faces being again washed, and our hair receiving a second
smooth, we were taken down-stairs to be inspected by Uncle Geoff.

He was busy writing in a small room behind the dining-room--a rather
gloomy, but not uncomfortable little room. A fire was of course
burning brightly in the grate, but for a minute or two we all three
stood near the door, not venturing further in, for though Uncle Geoff
had replied "come in" to Pierson's tap, he did not at once look up when
we made our appearance, but went on finishing his letter. Some mornings
he had to go out very early, but this was not one of them; but instead
of going out, he had a great many very particular letters to write, and
it was difficult for him to take his mind off them even for a minute. I
understand that now, but I did not then; and I was rather offended that
the boys and I should be left standing there without his taking any
notice. Racey kept tight hold of my hand, and Tom looked up at me with a
surprised, puzzled expression in his eyes. I didn't so much mind for
myself, but I felt very sorry for the boys. I was not at all a shy
child, as I have told you, and I had rather a sharp temper in some ways;
so after fidgeting for a moment or two I said suddenly--

[Illustration: 'May we come near the fire, if you please?']

"May we come near the fire, if you please; or if you don't want us may
we go back to the nursery?"

For an instant still Uncle Geoff took no notice. Then he laid down his
pen and looked at us--at me in particular.

"What did you say, my little lady?"

I got more angry. It seemed to me that he was making fun of me, and that
was a thing I never could endure. But I did not show that I was angry. I
think my face got red, but that was all, and I said again quietly, but
not in a very nice tone, I dare say--

"I wanted to know if we might go back to the nursery if you don't want
us, or at least if we might come near the fire. It isn't for me, it is
for the boys. Mother doesn't like them to stand in a draught, and
there's a great draught here."

"Dear me, dear me, I