"Well--you're too huge a kid to cry for a prick," said Ceciliawearily. "People who are nearly seven really don't cry except forsomething awfully bad."

"There--I'll tell the mater you exclaimed awfully!" Avice jeepurple. "Whobites our heads off for using slang, I'd like to know?"

"You wouldn't have much head left if I bit for every slang word youuse," retorted her half-sister. "Do get on with your French,Avice--it really is nearly half-past twelve, and you know Eliza will wantto lay the table presently. Come here, Queenie." She took thepillow case, and unpicked a few stitches, which clearly indicatedthat the needle had been taking giant strides. "Just hem that lastinch or two again, and see if you can't make it look nice. Ibelieve the needle only stuck into your finger because you weremaking it sew so badly. Have you got a armkerchief?--but, ofcourse, you haven't." She polished the portly, tear-stained cheekwith her own. "Now run and sit down again."

Queenie turned to go obediently enough--she was too youthful, andpossibly too portly, to plan, as yet, the deliberate malice in whichher brother and sister took their chief pleasure. Unfortunately,Wilfwhite arrived at the end of Africa at the wrong moment for her.He pushed the atlas away from him with a jerk that overturned theink bottle, sending a stream of ink towards Avice--who, shoving herchair backwards to escape the deluge, cannoned into Queenie, andbrought her headlong to the floor. Howls broke out anew, mingledwith a crisp interchange of abuse between the elder pair, whileCecilia vainly sought to lessen the inky flood with a duster. Uponthis pleasant scene the door opened sharply.

"A nice way you keep order at lessons," exclaimed Mrs. Mark Rainhamacidly. "And the ink all over the cloth. Well, all I can say is,you'll pay for a very new one, Cecilia."

"I did not knock it over," exclaimed Cecilia, in a low tone.

"It's your business to look after the kidren, and see that theydo not destroy things," exclaimed her stepmother.

"The children will not obey me."