man all but sank. She had no voice for protest or entreaty--a
sob choked her; and blindly she made her way to the door of the room, then
to the exit from the Hall.

'What in the world is the matter?' cried May, hearing from the
sitting-room, whither she had retired, a clamour of distressful tongues.

She came into the kitchen, and learnt what had happened.

'And now I hope you're satisfied!' exclaimed her mother, with tearful
wrath. 'You've got us turned out of our home--you've lost us the best place
a family ever had--and I hope it's a satisfaction to your conceited,
overbearing mind! If you'd _tried_ for it you couldn't have gone to work
better. And much _you_ care! We're below you, we are; we're like dirt under
your feet! And your father'll go and end his life who knows where miserable
as miserable can be; and your sister'll have to go into service; and as for
me--'

'Listen, mother!' shouted the girl, her eyes flashing and every nerve of
her body strung. 'If the Shales are such contemptible wretches as to turn
you out just because they're offended with _me_, I should have thought
you'd have spirit enough to tell them what you think of such behaviour, and
be glad never more to serve such brutes! Father, what do _you_ say? I'll
tell you how it was.'

She narrated the events of the afternoon, amid sobs and ejaculations from
her mother and Betsy. Rockett, who was just now in anguish of lumbago,
tried to straighten himself in his chair before replying, but sank
helplessly together with a groan.

'You can't help yourself, May,' he said at length. 'It's your nature, my
girl. Don't worry. I'll see Sir Edwin, and perhaps he'll listen to me. It's
the women who make all the mischief. I must try to see Sir Edwin--'

A pang across the loins made him end abruptly, groaning, moaning,
muttering. Before the renewed attack of her mother May retreated into the
sitting-room, and there passed an hour wretchedly enough. A knock at the
door without words called her to supper, but she had no appetite, and would
not join the family circle. Presently the door opened, and her father
looked in.

'Don't worry, my girl,' he whispered. 'I'll see Sir Edwin in the morning.'

May uttered no reply. Vaguely repenting what she had done, she at the same
time rejoiced in the recollection of her passage of arms with Miss Shale,
and was inclined to despise her family for their pusillanimous attitude. It
seemed to her very improbable that the expul