IT was Mrs. Bartlett's habit, when well enough, to go to the schoolroom at five o'clock, and have a cup of tea with the children. The schoolroom tea was emphatically a "hungry" meal, to borrow a Scotch term. The children were wont to come in from their walk or their games with powerful appetites, and it was marvellous the quantity of bread and butter and home-made cake they would contrive to dispose of. The tea hour was such a bright cosy time, when their mother was ready to listen to all they liked to say, and to answer as many questions as they chose to put. But this evening the room looked less cheery, although there was a bright clear fire burning in the grate, for their mother's easy chair stood empty. The children were disposed to grumble as they took their places at the table, until Kate conceived the grand idea of making toast.
"You would like some toast, wouldn't you, Miss Jameson?" she said, and Miss Jameson kindly said that she would like some, although she knew by sad experience that Kate's toast was not over nice. So Gertie was despatched to the kitchen to fetch a toasting fork, Florrie armed herself with the bread knife, and the toasting began.
Florrie's piece of bread fell into the fire almost immediately, and when rescued was so blackened that Miss Jameson decided that it was fit only to be given to the dog, if he would condescend to eat it. Kate's attempt was not much more successful. She did not indeed drop her slice into the fire; but she first smoked it and then burnt it, so that a good deal of scraping was necessary ere the blackened slice could be eaten. Florrie decided that toasting was stupid work, and gave it up; but Kate persevered in spite of scorched cheeks and tingling fingers, until everyone at the table had been provided with a piece of toast of her making, which, hot-buttered, was thoroughly appreciated by the children, though Miss Jameson found her portion rather over toasted.
"Whatever shall we do this evening?" asked Gertie; "you will tell us a story, won't you, Miss Jameson?"
"Perhaps I will by-and-by, if you take your work and sit down," she replied; "I want you to do a good deal of needlework whilst your mamma is away."
"I hate needlework," grumbled Kate, "I am sick of that antemacassar. What is the good of antemacassars? I think they are stupid things—always sticking to people's backs, or falling out of their right places."
"Oh, Miss Jameson, need I finish hemming that duster?" asked Florrie, "I am so tired of it; I would so much rather do wool-work."
"That's just like Florrie," exclaimed Kate, "she always gets tired of her work, and wants to do something different; but she must finish it, mustn't she, Miss Jameson?"
"She can finish it this evening if she is industrious," said the governess; "and then I can find her some pleasanter work to-morrow."
"I am going to make a new apron for my doll," said Gertie, with an air of importance; "mamma gave me a piece of muslin yesterday."