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considerable sacrifice for your benefit. Scarborough meant a lot to us. We will say no more about your rudeness at lunch, but what we would like to hear from you in return is a proper expression of thanks to us for all we have done for you.”
    Under such a speech as this, most people’s gratitude would wither rather. David’s did. “I said Thanks,” he protested. “But I’ll say it again if you like.”
    â€œWhat you say is beside the point, child,” Aunt Dot told him austerely. “All we want is that you should feel in your heart, honestly and sincerely, what it means to be grateful for once.”
    â€œThen what do you want me to do?” David asked rather desperately.
    â€œI sometimes think,” said Uncle Bernard vigorously, “that you were born without a scrap of gratitude or common good feeling, boy.”
    â€œBut I do feel grateful,” said David. “I’m ever so grateful for not going to Mr. Scrum, really!”
    â€œGrateful for not going to Mr. Scrum!” said Astrid. “Listen to him! Does it matter to him that we’re deprived of our holiday? Not a bit. David wouldn’t turn a hair if I were to drop dead at his feet.”
    â€œYes I would. Anyone would,” said David. He thought about what he would feel if Astrid did actually chance to drop dead at his feet. “I’d be very surprised, and I’d think you were pretending at first. But when I began to believe it I’d get a doctor to make sure you really were dead.”
    â€œAren’t we chivalrous!” Astrid said crossly.
    â€œNo, I’m not,” David said, as Mrs. Thirsk came in with the next course. “But you’re not a damsel in distress.”
    Astrid went very red and glared at David all the time Mrs. Thirsk was handing out plates with dark meat on them covered with dark gravy. The meat was dark because it was burned. It tasted terrible, so terrible that even Uncle Bernard noticed.
    â€œThis meat is burned,” he said fretfully. “I don’t think it’s eatable.”
    Everyone except David thankfully laid down their knives and forks. David was so hungry after rebuilding the wall that he had practically eaten all his anyway, and it seemed a shame to leave the rest.
    â€œThat boy has no discrimination,” said Uncle Bernard, as Mrs. Thirsk came back to see what was the matter.
    â€œMrs. Thirsk—” began Aunt Dot.
    â€œI can’t think how it happened!” said Mrs. Thirsk. “It was beautiful five minutes ago. And when I came back after taking the soup, there it was, black! And it was on the table. No heat near it.”
    â€œIt has been near a very great heat for a considerable time, I should say,” Uncle Bernard said, prodding it. “I can’t find your explanation adequate, Mrs. Thirsk.”
    â€œAdequate or not, it’s the plain truth!” said Mrs. Thirsk. She gave David a malignant look as she said it, as if she would have liked to put the blame on him if she could.
    â€œThe soup was burned too,” said Astrid.
    â€œThat was right as rain when it left my kitchen,” claimed Mrs. Thirsk. “You may say what you like, but I can’t understand it.” And for five more minutes, at the top of her voice, Mrs. Thirsk went on not being able to understand it, either the soup or the meat.
    â€œLet’s have the pudding anyway,” said Cousin Ronald hungrily, and Mrs. Thirsk went angrily away to get it.
    The pudding was burned too, and Mrs. Thirsk could not understand that either. “It was right as rain,” she said. “Good as gold it was. Now look at it!”
    â€œOh let’s not have all that again,” said Cousin Ronald. “Bring us some bread and cheese, and do try not to burn that if you can.”
    Luckily, it was beyond Mrs. Thirsk’s skill to burn bread and cheese, so everyone began hungrily to eat that. David was pleased. It looked