"Pick them up, children, and try to keep out of mischief for the rest of the day. I must go back to my sewing," Mrs. Keith said, following her aunt, who had already left the room.
Mildred staid behind to assist in setting it to rights.
"You naughty children! really I could almost enjoy spanking you all round," she exclaimed directly, as she came upon the fragments of a delicate china vase belonging to herself, and a valued letter from a friend torn into bits.
"Milly," said Cyril solemnly, "s'pose we should get deaded some day; wouldn't you be sorry?"
"Suppose I should get deaded," she retorted, "wouldn't you be sorry for spoiling my pretty things?"
She was ashamed of her outburst nevertheless, and the child's words haunted her all the afternoon.
It was evening; two candles burned on the sitting-room table, and beside it sat Mildred and her mother still busily plying their needles.
The rest of the family were in bed and Miss Stanhope and the seamstress had gone to their own homes hours ago.
"My child, put up your work for to-night," said Mrs. Keith; "You are looking weary and depressed; and no wonder, for you have had a hard day."