boy's hand in hers.
"Basil, look!"

One long, narrow window looked directly upon the back stairs, which led
from the servants' hall to the upper floor. Up these stairs, past the
window, a figure was now seen to pass, swiftly and stealthily; a portly
figure, carrying something that looked like a heaped up plate; the
figure of Frances the cook. It passed, and in a moment more they saw
light, as of an opening door, flash into the dark window of the corner
room where the little girl slept.

"Do you know, Basil," said Margaret, "I wouldn't worry any more about
Susan D.'s being hungry. There is one person in Fernley whom no one, not
even Uncle John, can manage; that is Frances."

An hour or so later, Margaret was coming down from the nursery. Merton
had announced, as bedtime drew near, that he "felt a pain;" and Margaret
had no difficulty in tracing it to Mrs. Peyton's careless indulgence.
She stole down quietly to the cheerful back room where Frances and
Elizabeth sat with their sewing, and begged for some simple remedy.
Frances rose with alacrity. "Checkerberry cordial is what you want,
Miss Margaret," she said. "I've made it for thirty years, and I hope I
know its merits. No wonder the child is sick. If some had their way,
everybody in this house 'ud be sick to starvation."

"I am afraid it was the other thing in this case, Frances," said
Margaret, meekly. "I'm afraid Master Merton ate too many rich things at
Mrs. Peyton's." Now in general, Frances could not abide patiently the
mention of Mrs. Peyton; but this time she declared she was glad the
child had had enough to eat for once. "'Twill do him no harm!" she said,
stoutly. "Give him ten drops of this, Miss Margaret, in a wine-glass of
hot water,--wait a minute, dear, and I'll mix it myself,--and he'll turn
over and go to sleep like a lamb. Treating children as if they was one
half starch and t'other half sticks! Don't tell me!"

Knowing that none of this wrath was directed against herself, Margaret
wisely held her tongue, and departed with her glass, leaving Frances
still muttering, and Elizabeth with lips pursed up in judicious silence.
And Merton took it and felt better, and was glad enough to be petted a
little, and finally to be tucked up with the hot water-bottle for a
comforter.

As has been said, Margaret was coming down-stairs after this mission was
fulfilled, when she met Miss Sophronia coming up. "All quiet up-stairs,
my dear?" said the lady. "I am going