s using a tone of
legitimate authority, touched sometimes with humorous compassion, she
exacted obedience to her directions, but was well aware that at any moment
the burden of a new civilisation might prove too heavy for the Turpin
family and cause revolt. A week went by; it was again Saturday, and Miss
Rodney devoted a part of the morning (there being no school to-day) to
culinary instruction. Mabel and Lily shared the lesson with their mother,
but both young ladies wore an air of condescension, and grimaced at Miss
Rodney behind her back. Mrs. Turpin was obstinately mute. The pride of
ignorance stiffened her backbone and curled her lip.

Miss Rodney's leisure generally had its task; though as a matter of
principle she took daily exercise, her walking or cycling was always an
opportunity for thinking something out, and this afternoon, as she sped on
wheels some ten miles from Wattleborough, her mind was busy with the
problem of Mrs. Turpin's husband. From her clerical friend of St. Luke's
she had learnt that Turpin was at bottom a decent sort of man, rather
intelligent, and that it was only during the last year or two that he had
taken to passing his evenings at the public-house. Causes for this decline
could be suggested. The carpenter had lost his only son, a lad of whom he
was very fond; the boy's death quite broke him down at the time, and
perhaps he had begun to drink as a way for forgetting his trouble. Perhaps,
too, his foolish, slatternly wife bore part of the blame, for his home had
always been comfortless, and such companionship must, in the long-run, tell
on a man. Reflecting upon this, Miss Rodney had an idea, and she took no
time in putting it into practice. When Mabel brought in her tea, she asked
the girl whether her father was at home.

'I think he is, miss,' was the distant reply--for Mabel had been bidden by
her mother to 'show a proper spirit' when Miss Rodney addressed her.

'You think so? Will you please make sure, and, if you are right, ask Mr.
Turpin to be so kind as to let me have a word with him.'

Startled and puzzled, the girl left the room. Miss Rodney waited, but no
one came. When ten minutes had elapsed she rang the bell. A few minutes
more and there sounded a heavy foot in the passage; then a heavy knock at
the door, and Mr. Turpin presented himself. He was a short, sturdy man,
with hair and beard of the hue known as ginger, and a face which told in
his favour. Vicious he could assured