with sudden vigour; "go off and make
yourself fine, and lave me to wash all the cloam that's been standen' up
in grease these three days. Vanities o' the flesh are all you think
on, 'stead of helpen' your mother as has done everything for 'ee since
you was naught but a young babe, and that scrawlen' come night there was
no gettin' any sleep. You might not be a maid toall for the help I get
of 'ee."

"I'll help wi' the cloam," said a big, heavily-made boy who was seated
at one end of the table, eating a pasty. He crammed the last pale,
stodgy morsel into his mouth and pushed back his chair, saying:

"I'll do the cloam for 'ee, mother. Lave the maiden be."

John-James was a good-natured, thick-headed boy, the third in the
family, and the one of her children who seemed to have inherited Annie's
peasant blood undiluted. He supplied the restful element in a house
where the eldest-born was hot-tempered and revengeful and the second son
more like a girl-child for sharpness and a woman grown for scheming. Tom
had already made up his mind to be Mr. Tonkin's office boy, and from
that he meant to become articled clerk, and from that--who could tell?
Tom remained quiet on the subject of his ultimate intentions, but he was
fighting his mother's apathy and natural habit of opposition to attain
the first step in his career. Mr. Tonkin, who, as Ishmael's guardian,
visited fairly frequently at the Manor, was expected to the supper that
night, and Tom meant matters to come to a head. He had noticed what an
influence the Methodist lawyer had over his mother and meant to use it
for his own ends. Annie had a secret fear of Tom; Archelaus she adored,
and Vassilissa came only second; but John-James she held of small
account. She turned on him now even while she gave the dish into his
hands.

"There you go, John-James Beggoe, talken' as though I grudged my own
cheild maken' herself 'ansome. Vassie, my worm, you may have that bit o'
blue ribbon I bought last Corpus Fair--'tes in the chest."

Vassie was off before her mother had time to change her mind, and
John-James began slowly to rinse the china through the darkened water,
on whose surface the grease lay in a shimmering arabesque. Annie went
round the kitchen rasping the chairs over the stone floor and making
futile dabs at their seats with her apron. She had that curious
uncertainty of aim usually seen in dogs, who never seem to be sure of
touching the object at which they paw.

The