manual labour.

Philippa stood by the table, the big cutting-out scissors in her hands;
a handsome girl with clearly cut aquiline features, and dark hair which
rippled back in a soft, smoke-like mass, and was coiled gracefully
together on the nape of her neck. Her shoulders were broad and square,
and had a trick of broadening still further in dignified, self-assertive
fashion when their owner was annoyed or wished to exercise her
authority. Madge always declared that she looked at Philippa's
shoulders when she wished to see how the wind blew; but then Madge was
so daring and inconsequent in her remarks that no one paid much
attention to what _she_ said! Behold her now, running seams on the
old-fashioned treadle machine, with bent back and long, pointed chin
poked forward over the needle. As often as not a jerk of the hands or
an erratic movement of the feet would be followed by a jar, a knot, a
breaking of the thread; and when this occurred Madge would clench both
fists together and mouth dumb anathemas, the while she rolled tragic
eyes to the ceiling. If there was one thing on earth which she detested
more than another, it was plain sewing; but this morning she had
gallantly volunteered to do the machining, and machine she would, no
matter what tortures it might cost her! She was a little scrap of a
thin, starved-looking creature, with a long, narrow face, plain
features, and just the prettiest, happiest, most lovable pair of hazel
eyes you can possibly imagine. Even to-day they looked happy, for there
was a certain transparency and twinkling light in the iris which seemed
independent of varying moods. Madge was eighteen, and was going to be
an artist and have pictures hung on the line in the Academy or know the
reason why, and in her opinion her time would have been much more
profitably employed daubing in the attic than doing dull, useful work
downstairs; but, as has been said, there are occasions when personal
inclinations have to be laid in the dust.

Theo sat by herself, unpicking a coloured lining from a black grenadine
dress, with an expression of tragic despair. It was not that she
sorrowed for her father more deeply than her sisters, but it was Theo's
nature to revel in emotion and deliberately to work herself up to the
height of rejoicing or down to the depths of despair. She was a tall,
graceful girl, with a face which was decidedly interesting if not
regularly pretty, and her broad forehead and d