e fire
was out, the kitchen was littered with dishes and pots and pans, and
Fanny the cook, with a dirty apron on and no cap, was fast asleep in her
chair by the window, just as though she had not a care or a duty in the
world. The squalor and muddle of the whole place could not fail to
strike any one, even casual Kitty; and to her it brought a deeper
feeling, one of trouble and remorse, for, in response to her own
pleading, her father had made her his housekeeper--and this was how she
had fulfilled her duties! In fact, she had given herself no duties; she
had shirked them. She had left everything to the servants, and as long
as she had been free and untroubled, and meals of a kind had been served
at more or less regular intervals, had bothered no further.

"Fanny!" she called sharply, "do wake up! Why haven't you got a fire,
and a kettle boiling?"

Fanny awoke with a start, which in itself is enough to make a person
cross; and to have been caught asleep, with her work not done, made her
crosser. "I don't want a great fire burning on a hot afternoon like
this," she answered sharply. "You wouldn't like it yourself if you had
to sit by it, Miss Kitty; and if it's your tea you'm wanting, well, it
isn't tea-time yet. When 'tis, you will find 'tis ready."

"Um--m!" said Kitty loftily, in a tone that expressed most emphatic
doubt of Fanny's statement.

"What is it you're routing about in the cupboards for, miss? I don't
like to have folks coming into my kitchen, turning everything over and
rummaging round. I shan't know where to find a thing when I wants to.
What is it you'm looking for?"

"The methylated spirit and the little stove," said Kitty. "I _must_
have some hot water, Fanny, and quickly. Father wants some. There has
been an accident."

Fanny changed her tone, and her expression grew a little milder.
"We haven't got a leak, miss. We ran out of it a week ago. I told
Emily to tell you--but there, I might as well talk to the wind as talk
to her--"

"Oh dear," interrupted Kitty, "whatever shall I do? Jabez is bleeding
so he will bleed to death--"

"Jabez! Oh my! Whatever has happened, Miss Kitty?" Suddenly Fanny's
whole manner changed to one of anxious eagerness and deep concern.
"Is it--is it dangerous, miss? How did it happen? What's he done?"
Fanny had been so sound asleep that she had not noticed the noise in the
yard, or the little procession pass the kitchen window on its way to the
s