Old Mrs. Daintree sits darning socks, severely, by the fading light. There is a sound of distant whimpering from the shadowy corner behind the piano; it is Tommy in disgrace. Vera turns round; Marion's kind face looks troubled and distressed; the old lady compresses her lips firmly and savagely.
Vera takes the cup from her sister's hands, and putting it down again on the table, proceeds to cut a slice of bread from the loaf, and to spread it thickly with strawberry jam.
"Come here, Tommy, and have some of Auntie's bread and jam."
Out comes a small person, with a very swollen face and a very dirty pinafore, from the distant seclusion of the corner, and flies swiftly to Vera's sheltering arm.
Mrs. Daintree drops her work angrily into her lap.
"Vera, I must beg of you not to interfere with Tom; are you aware that he is in the corner by my orders?"
"Perfectly, Mrs. Daintree; and also that he was there before I went out, exactly three-quarters of an hour ago; there are limits to all human endurance."
"I consider it extremely impertinent," begins the old lady, nodding her head violently.
"Darling Vera," pleads Marion, almost in tears; "perhaps you had better let him go back."
"Tommy is quite good now," says Vera, calmly passing her hand over the rough blonde head. Master Tommy's mouth is full of bread and jam, and he looks supremely indifferent to the warfare that is being carried on on his account over his head.