'Stuff!'
'No, I won't have it done if Wilmet says not;' and Felix reared up in the gloom, and struggled with his brother.
'Felix—Edgar—Oh, don't.'
'Hsh—sh— Now you girls are worse than all, screaming in that way.' A few moments' silence of shame. It had been a weary, long, wet day, a trial under any circumstances to eleven people under seventeen, on the 4th of January, and the more oppressive in St. Oswald's Buildings, because not only had their father been in a much more suffering state for some days past, but their mother, who had hoped to keep up for some weeks longer, had for the last two days been quite unlike herself. In the sick-room she was as tender and vigilant as ever in her silent way, but towards her children a strange fretful impatience had set in, almost a jealousy of their coming near their father, and an intolerance of the least interruption from them even for the most necessary cause. Moreover, the one friend and helper who had never failed them before, Mr. Audley, had not been seen since he had looked in before early service; and altogether the wretchedness and perplexity of that day had been such, that it was no wonder that even Felix and Wilmet had scarcely spirits or temper for the only task that seemed at present left them, the hindering their juniors from making themselves obnoxious.
'Wilmet, do you think we shall go to the party at Centry Park?' reiterated Fulbert.
'Do hold your tongue about that. I don't believe there's the least chance,' said Alda fretfully.
'And I don't know how you can think of such a thing,' added Cherry.
'I want to see Cousin Marilda's Christmas tree,' whined Robina.
'Do ask Mamma again,' entreated another voice.
'I shall do no such thing,' said Wilmet, with absolute crossness in her tone.