to take no notice of it. He began buttoning his
great-coat before the fire.

"You'll look after them, and make them happy, Partridge," said he as he
turned to the door.

"Of _course_, sir," she replied. And then in a lower voice she added as
she followed him out of the room, "I sha'n't be sorry, sir, when
Pierson, the nurse, goes. She's so very interfering like."

"Ah well, well, it's only for a very short time, and then we must look
out for some suitable person. My little niece, by the by, has been
begging me not to get a nurse at all; she says she's sure she could wash
and dress the boys herself--what do you think of that, Partridge?"

"It's all that Pierson, sir," said Partridge; "it's all jealousy of
another coming after her, you may be sure. Not but that,"--by this time
Uncle Geoff and the old servant were out in the hall, but my ears are
very sharp, and one can always catch one's own name more quickly than
anything else--"not but that Miss Audrey's far too up-spoken for her
age. She has been spoilt by her mother very likely--the only girl."

"Perhaps," said Uncle Geoff. "Her father did tell me she was rather an
odd little girl--a queer temper if taken the wrong way. But we must do
our best with them, poor little things. Miss Audrey seems very fond of
her brothers, any way."

Partridge said nothing more aloud, but it seemed to me I caught a
murmured "far too fond of managing and ordering them about for her age,"
and I boiled with indignation, all the deeper that I was determined not
to show it. I was angry with Mrs. Partridge most of all, of course, and
angry with Uncle Geoff. I was not angry with papa-- I did not mind his
having told Uncle Geoff that I had a queer temper, for I knew it was
true, and I did not mind Uncle Geoff knowing it; but I was horribly
angry at his talking me over with Partridge, and making fun of what I
had said, and most determined that she should not interfere with either
me or the boys. So when we went up to the nursery again I called my
little brothers to me.

"Tom and Racey," I said, "Mrs. Partridge is a cross, unkind old woman.
You mustn't mind what she says--you must only do what I tell you. Mother
told me I was to take care of you, and she would like you to do what I
say--you will, won't you?"

"Yes, of course," said both the boys. "Of course we love you, Audrey,
and we don't love that cross old thing one bit." "But," pursued Tom,
looking rather puzzled, "aren't we to do wha