at she had
come to a time of life when she was thankful to be spared fatigue and
discomfort; but her husband was not so willing to make the admission,
and talked about his proposed absence in an impersonal fashion, which
vastly amused his hearers.

"Mother has had to bear the burden of housekeeping for over twenty
years, and I think it quite time that some of you took it off her
shoulders. It is good training for girls to learn everything that has
to be done in connection with a house, so for your sakes as well as hers
I feel it a duty to take her away." So he spoke, and Nan rolled her
eyes at him in mischievous fashion, poking forward her head until her
face was but a few inches from his own.

"And--er, what about your own? You do not love the smell of soft soap,
do you, dear? I remember last year--"

Her father waved his arms helplessly.

"Everything tasted of it! Soup, fish, puddings, everything one ate
seemed saturated with soft soap; and there is something peculiarly
depressing about a house with no carpets on the floors. I feel as if I
were going to be sold up; and if there is one thing more aggravating
than another, it is to be obliged to sit in a fresh room every day, and
have all one's possessions stored carefully out of sight. Now,
remember, whoever dusts the books in the library is only to take out a
few at a time, and put them back--ex-actly where she found them!"

"Yes, father!"

"No servant is to touch them! I know what that means--every book piled
on the floor, and stuffed back into the shelves just as they come! You
girls are responsible, and must dust them yourselves."

"Mine own fair hands shall do the deed--in gloves, however, for I know
those books of old, and shall smother myself in sheets before I begin.
I don't object to a few days' charing for a change," said Nan briskly.
"I love rushing about in an apron, using my muscles instead of my brain,
gathering all the ornaments together, and washing them in a nice soapy
bath--"

"And watching the water get dirty! Isn't it lovely?" gushed Agatha
enthusiastically. "It isn't a bit interesting when they are only a
little bit soiled. I like figures and things with lots of creases where
the dust gets in, and you have to scrub away with a nail-brush, and the
water gets black--perfectly black! It's lovely!"

Every one laughed, even Mrs Rendell, though she felt in duty bound to
protest at the idea of anything being "black" in her well-kep