w potatoes. A greengage tart, with a little jug of cream, also
awaited the young lady's pleasure.

She called Susy out of her cupboard with a glad voice.

"Come, Susan," she said, "there's plenty for us both. As there are
only plates and knives and forks for one, I'll eat first, of course,
but you can wash the things up, and have a good meal after me. We must
be quick about it though, for Hudson will be back in half an hour."

"Oh, yes, miss, that we will. I'm wonderful hungry, Miss Ermengarde,
and your nice dinner do look enticing."

At the appointed time Hudson returned. She brought in a couple of
peaches and a bunch of grapes for Ermengarde.

"Miss Ermengarde!" she said in consternation, "you don't mean to say
you've eaten up all the duck! And the tart, too! Well, I do call that
greedy. Where's the sorrow that worketh to repentance when there's
such an appetite? You'll be ill, miss, and no wonder."

"But I didn't eat all the duck, really, Hudson--I didn't truly!"

"My dear, what's left of it? Only a little bit of the back. Why, this
plump bird ought to have dined three people. Miss Ermengarde, you
certainly will be very ill, and you deserve it. No, I won't leave
these peaches and grapes--I'd be afraid. Good-afternoon, miss, I'll
look in at tea-time. But don't you expect nothing but dry toast then."

Hudson took her tray down to the kitchen, where she remarked on
Ermie's enormous appetite.

"A whole duck!" she said. "I didn't think any young lady could eat so
much. And most times Miss Ermie picks at her food."

Upstairs, in Miss Nelson's pretty little sitting-room, Ermengarde was
scolding Susy for eating so much duck. Susy was retorting with some
passion that she had not had more than her share, and over this
dispute the two friends came almost to a quarrel.

Susy, however, had no wish not to keep on the sunny side of Miss
Ermengarde's affections, and after her momentary irritation had cooled
down, she adroitly changed the subject. Once more she administered
broad flatteries; and impressed upon Ermengarde the fact that she was
a long-suffering and ill-used martyr.

"I wouldn't stand it," said Susy. "No, that I wouldn't. I ain't a lady
like you, Miss Ermie, but I wouldn't stand what you do."

"What would you do, Susy? How would you help yourself?"

"What would I do? Well, I'd go to my pa', and I'd have a talk with
him. I'd let him know that--obey that old horror of a governess?"

"You mustn't speak abo