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dreaded being left alone with the children. There was something intimidating about them. They were not at all like little pitchers waiting to be filled with knowledge from text-books.
    “I brought some books with me,” she said.
    “Good. And they have a supply. If there is anything you want, let me know. Now I’m going about my work and you can get to yours. Renny!”
    “Yes, Papa.”
    “No monkey tricks. Meggie!”
    “Yes, Papa.”
    “Be a good girl. Help Miss Wakefield.”
    A moment more and Mary was alone with the two who stood regarding her appraisingly. She smiled as confidently as she could and asked, “Do we do lessons in the sitting-room?”
    “Goodness, no,” answered Meg. “That’s where Papa smokes.” She continued to stare coolly at Mary.
    They boy did not speak but stood, with a hand grasping the door knob, swinging his body gently from side to side.
    “Show me then,” said Mary. She put her arm about Meg’s shoulders. Heavens, the plump firmness of them! She gave the impression of stubbornness right through her clothes. She wriggled free of Mary’s arm. Mary thought, that’s the last time I put my arm about
you
without your inviting me.
    Meg led the way into the hall. A door opposite the door of the dining-room stood ajar. Mary glanced through it. She gave the merest glance but both children saw her. They looked at each other and smiled in a secretive way.
    That’s Granny’s room,” said Renny in his clear high voice. “She’ll be coming soon. Everyone’s afraid of her.”
    “It was she who sent Miss Turnbull away,” added Meg.
    “Why?” Mary could not help asking.
    “Oh, she didn’t like her.”
    “Want to see the room?” asked Renny. As he spoke he flung open the door and stalked in, with an air of ownership. “I can do what I like in here. Come on in.”
    “Oh, no,” objected Mary.
    Meg caught her by the hand and dragged her in. “You’d better see it now,” she said, “because when Granny comes home you can’t.”
    “I always can,” said Renny. “That’s her bed. Like to sleep in it?” Mary saw an ornate leather bedstead painted in a rich design of flowers and fruit, between the glowing petals and leaves of which grinning faces of monkeys appeared and heavy-winged butterflies clung, as though in sensuous rapture. Over the mattress lay a coverlet of satin, embroidered in India, in threads of gold and mulberry. On the mantelshelf stood the figure of a Chinese goddess and among the English walnut furniture were pieces of inlaid ebony. The room had a semi-oriental look distasteful to Mary but outside the open window a great white lilac tree displayed its plumes and filled the air with its scent. Mary pictured the lovely red-lipped brown-eyed young woman of theportrait in this room, tried to visualize her has almost seventy. Perhaps she would be bent, complaining, suffering from rheumatism. She said:
    “You shouldn’t have forced me in here, Meg. Come, we must get to work.” She took Renny’s hand and was surprised by the grip of the small hard fingers. He tugged at her hand.
    “Do you like it?” he insisted. “Should you like to sleep here?”
    “No,” she answered firmly. “Now show me the school-room.”
    “You don’t
like
it?” he cried, his little face expressing chagrin and even anger. “Why — it’s a beautiful room.”
    Mary hastened to say, “I didn’t mean that I don’t think it’s a beautiful room. I only meant it’s too grand for me. I like a more simple room to sleep in.”
    “Do you like the room you have?” Now he swung on her hand as he had before swung on the door.
    “Very much. Now will you please show me the room where we are to work?”
    They darted, as by a common impulse, into the hall and up the two flights of stairs. Mary heard a door slam. With dignity she followed them to the top. “Children!” she called.
    Renny threw open a door and stood facing her. Behind him she saw a table littered with books.
    “I consider,”