Changes in the kitchen arrangements had involved the clearing out and reordering of a certain corner cupboard that day, and Dorothy, perched on a chair, was settling the upper shelves. Her mother, with a face that every hour in the day had grown harder, because of the conflict within which she was determined nobody should suspect, was sorting over boxes of spices, bags of dried seeds, papers of treasures. Dorothy found a niche which she believed would just receive one of the treasures, a large, old-fashioned, covered dish of china, dating back in its pattern for nearly a hundred years, and valued in the household, as such pieces generally are, for a dozen times their worth. She glanced about her. Louise had moved to the distant window, and was looking out upon the dull sky and earth. Her mother was absorbed and forbidding-looking. Little Nellie was standing very near the treasured dish, and her quick eye saw what was wanted, and her quick and eager fingers grasped the treasure.
"I'll hand it to you, Dorrie; you needn't get down."
"Oh no!" said Dorothy aghast, but not quickly enough. The small hands that were so anxious to help had seized it, and were safely bearing it forward, when the metallic voice of the mother came startlingly upon her.
"Nellie Morgan, put that dish down on the table this instant!"
Poor, startled Nellie, eager to obey, anxious to show her mother and Dorothy, and, above all, Louise, that she meant to do right, turned to obey; but, alas her nervous little hand measured falsely the height of the table, and she hit the rare blue dish against its edge, the treacherous cover toppled over, and—well, how did it happen? Who ever knows just how dire accidents happen? Such a second of time in which they do it all! What Nellie and the rest of the startled spectators knew was that the family heirloom lay in a dozen pieces on the yellow kitchen floor!
[CHAPTER XXIV.]
STORM.
FOR the space of about one minute there was silence in the kitchen; then Mrs. Morgan, senior, advanced with swift steps and stern face, and caught the trembling Nellie by the arm and whirled her into the little bedroom near at hand, and closed the door with an ominous bang. Then, presently, there followed those sounds so absolutely unendurable to refined and sensitive nerves—rapid blows, mingled with pitiful pleadings for mercy.
I have often wondered whether, if those given to the administration of that sort of punishment could be lookers-on or listeners while another dealt the blows, it would not materially change their views of the entire question. Is it possible under those circumstances to avoid feeling a loss of respect for the administrator?—to escape from the notion that he or she is submitting to a self-degradation?
The two sisters looked at each other in dire dismay.