r sister's hands, and putting it down again on
the table, proceeds to cut a slice of bread from the loaf, and to spread
it thickly with strawberry jam.

"Come here, Tommy, and have some of Auntie's bread and jam."

Out comes a small person, with a very swollen face and a very dirty
pinafore, from the distant seclusion of the corner, and flies swiftly
to Vera's sheltering arm.

Mrs. Daintree drops her work angrily into her lap.

"Vera, I must beg of you not to interfere with Tom; are you aware that he
is in the corner by my orders?"

"Perfectly, Mrs. Daintree; and also that he was there before I went out,
exactly three-quarters of an hour ago; there are limits to all human
endurance."

"I consider it extremely impertinent," begins the old lady, nodding her
head violently.

"Darling Vera," pleads Marion, almost in tears; "perhaps you had better
let him go back."

"Tommy is quite good now," says Vera, calmly passing her hand over the
rough blonde head. Master Tommy's mouth is full of bread and jam, and he
looks supremely indifferent to the warfare that is being carried on on
his account over his head.

His crime having been the surreptitious purloining of his grandmamma's
darning cotton, and the subsequent immersion of the same in the inkstand,
Vera feels quite a warm glow of approval towards the little culprit and
his judiciously-planned piece of mischief.

"Vera, I _insist_ upon that child being sent back into the corner!"
exclaims Mrs. Daintree, angrily, bringing her large fist heavily down
upon her knee.

"The child has been over-punished already," she answers, calmly, still
administering the soothing solace of strawberry jam.

"Oh, Vera, _pray_ keep the peace!" cries Marion, with clasped hands.

"Here, I am thankful to say, comes my son;" as a shadow passes the
window, and Eustace's tall figure with the meekly stooping head comes
in at the door. "Eustace, I beg that you will decide who is to be in
authority in this house--your mother or this young lady. It is
insufferable that every time I send the children into the corner Vera
should call them out and give them cakes and jam."

Eustace Daintree looks helplessly from one to the other.

"My dear mother--my dear girls--what is it all about? I am sure Vera does
not mean----"

"No, Vera only means to be kind, grandmamma," cries Marion, nervously;
"she is so fond of the children----"

"Hold your tongue, Marion, and don't take your sister's part so
sh