rtains
clash with the carpet, when I chose 'em for a nice match. I tell you
what, ma'am, you can just about put them curtains back, and them
pictures, and that certificate of poor father's that you're so ashamed
of."

"I want to put my own pictures up," said Ellen doggedly--"if I've got to
live with your carpet and wallpaper, I don't see why I shouldn't have my
own pictures."

Joanna swept her eye contemptuously over "The Vigil," "Sir Galahad,"
"The Blessed Damozel," and one or two other schoolgirl favourites that
were lying on the bed.

"You can stick those up as well--there ain't such a lot."

"But can't you see, Joanna, that there are too many pictures on the wall
already?--It's simply crowded with them. Really, you're an obstinate old
beast," and Ellen began to cry.

Joanna fought back in herself certain symptoms of relenting. She could
not bear to see Ellen cry, but on the other hand she had "fixed up" this
room for Ellen--she had had it furnished and decorated for her--and now
Ellen must and should appreciate it. She should not be allowed to
disguise and bowdlerize it to suit the unwelcome tastes she had acquired
at school. The sight of her father's Buffalo certificate, lying face
downwards on the cupboard floor, gave strength to her flagging purpose.

"You pick that up and hang it in its proper place."

"I won't."

"You will."

"I won't! Why should I have that hideous thing over my bed?"

"Because it was your father's, and you should ought to be proud of it."

"It's some low drinking society he belonged to, and I'm not proud--I'm
ashamed."

Joanna boxed her ears.

"You don't deserve to be his daughter, Ellen Godden, speaking so. It's
you that's bringing us all to shame--thank goodness you've left school,
where you learned all that tedious, proud nonsense. You hang those
pictures up again, and those curtains, and you'll keep this room just
what I've made it for you."

Ellen was weeping bitterly now, but her sacrilege had hardened Joanna's
heart. She did not leave the room till the deposed dynasty of curtains
and pictures was restored, with poor father's certificate once more in
its place of honour. Then she marched out.

Sec.7

The days till Christmas were full of strain. Joanna had won her victory,
but she did not find it a satisfying one. Ellen's position in the
Ansdore household was that of a sulky rebel--resentful, plaintive, a
nurse of hard memories--too close to be ignored, too ho