Dimbie and I—and Amelia

by Mabel Barnes-Grundy

"But supposin' Mrs. Macintosh wants another helpin'" (waveringly).

"Mrs. Macintosh won't require any more pudding. Mrs. Macintosh is going to take a liver pill. Too much pudding would be bad for her."

"But——"

"Take out this pudding!"

The windows rattled, and Amelia bolted—not into the kitchen but into here, and after planking the pudding down on to Dimbie's arm-chair, said—

"If you please, mum, I must leave."

"Leave?" I echoed in astonishment.

"Yes, mum. I could not stop another minute—not for a thousand pounds down—with that gentle—I mean man in the house. Either he must go or me."

Before I could check myself I had smiled, for had not Amelia called Peter a gentle, the offspring of a meat-fly—the horrible creature with which I had fished as a little girl? And—Amelia took instant offence at my smile. Not being able to follow my train of thought, she imagined I was laughing at her.

"To-night," she said.