dah--"Shooh! Get
away with you!"

"I know that. But Laura--The other children have never given me a
moment's worry. But Laura's different. I seem to get less and less able
to manage her. If only her father had been alive to help!"

"I'm sure no father livin' could do more than you for those blessed
children," said Sarah with impatience. "You think of nothin' else. It
'ud be a great deal better if you took more care o' yourself. You sit
up nights an' don't get no proper sleep slavin' away at that blessed
embroid'ry an' stuff, so as Miss Laura can get off to school an' to 'er
books. An' then you want to worry over 'er as well.--She'll be all
right. Miss Laura's like peas. You've got to get 'em outer the
pod--they're in there sure enough. An' b'sides I guess school'll knock
all the nonsense out of 'er."

"Oh, I hope they won't be too hard on her," said Mother in quick
alarm.--"Shut the side gate, will you. Those children have left it open
again.--And, Sarah, I think we'll turn out the drawing-room."

Sarah grunted to herself as she went to close the gate. This had not
entered into her scheme of work for the day, and her cooking was still
undone. But she did not gainsay her mistress, as she otherwise would
have made no scruple of doing; for she knew that nothing was more
helpful to the latter in a crisis than hard, manual work. Besides,
Sarah herself had a sneaking weakness for what she called "dra'in'-room
days". For the drawing-room was the storehouse of what treasures had
remained over from a past prosperity. It was crowded with bric-a-brac
and ornament; and as her mistress took these objects up one by one, to
dust and polish them, she would, if she were in a good humour, tell
Sarah where and how they had been bought, or describe the places they
had originally come from: so that Sarah, pausing broom in hand to
listen, had with time gathered some vague ideas of a country like
"Inja", for example, whence came the little silver "pagody", and the
expressionless brass god who squatted vacantly and at ease.

III.

As long as the coach rolled down the main street Laura sat bolt upright
at the window. In fancy she heard people telling one another that this
was little Miss Rambotham going to school. She was particularly glad
that just as they went past the Commercial Hotel, Miss Perrotet, the
landlord's red-haired daughter, should put her fuzzy head out of the
window--for Miss Perrotet had also been to boarding-sch