"I should hate it," Violet confessed; "in fact, I dislike housework of any kind. I should like to be able to keep servants to do everything of that sort."
At that point in the conversation, the boys, having found nothing to interest them upstairs, appeared upon the scene and asked permission to make toffee over the sitting-room fire, as Barbara would not have, them in the kitchen. At first Mrs. Wyndham opposed the idea, but, as Madge joined her entreaties to her brothers', she gave in, and Ruth was prevailed upon to fetch the necessary ingredients and a saucepan.
Half an hour afterwards when Mr. Wyndham opened the front door and entered the house, he was greeted by the sound of high voices in the sitting-room and the smell of burnt toffee. With a weary sigh he turned into his study, and shut the door; but, ten minutes subsequently, he came out with an open letter in his hand and made his way to the sitting-room, where the burnt toffee had been emptied into a buttered dish, and the young folks were impatiently waiting for it to cool.
"It's all Madge's fault it is burnt," Billy was saying aggrievedly, as his father appeared, "she said she'd keep it stirred; but perhaps it won't taste so very bad—oh, here's father!"
Mr. Wyndham beckoned to his wife, who followed him from the room, closing the door behind her. The children exchanged significant glances.
"Something's happened," remarked Frank; and the others agreed with him.
"I expect it's to do with a bill," said Violet; "the butcher called this morning to know when it would be convenient for father to settle his account. Mother said she had no idea we owed him so much money as he said we did, and that she would speak to father about it; or, perhaps—"
"Oh, I don't fancy it's to do with anything disagreeable!" Ruth interposed; "I thought father looked quite pleased."
"So did I," agreed Madge; "perhaps something good has happened."
"I hope so, I'm sure," Ruth replied; and she fell to wondering if her father had been offered a better post at last.