"You're a good girl, Amelia, and you did quite right," said her mistress, and turning to me—
"This is really very trying and very uncomfortable. What do you suppose is the meaning of it?"
She looked a little bit as though she thought it was my fault.
"I don't know what's the meaning of it," I said, feeling angry. "I'm afraid Mr. Joseph Scorer has a very short memory. If I had him here I'd try if screwing his neck round would lengthen it."
Next day being Sunday we had a genuine day of rest, and enjoyed it with quite a novel sense of freedom from the cares and worries of life.
On Monday, by the morning train and the station omnibus, arrived a family much like our own—father, mother, four children, servant, and innumerable boxes.
I had had my bathe, and was sitting in the porch armed with a pipe and my stamped agreement with Mr. Scorer, prepared to repel all intruders. So, before the grinning omnibus-man had time to dump down the baggage, I took the father on one side, showed him my agreement, and explained the situation, telling him his was the third party I had had to turn empty away.
"I TOOK THE FATHER ASIDE AND SHOWED HIM MY AGREEMENT."
He was very wroth, and swore, I should say, as lustily as the old maids' nephew's parrot could have done. He was a lawyer, too, and wanted to go into the legal aspects of the case. I assured him that they did not interest me, unless I had some ground of action against Mr. Joseph Scorer for the disturbance of my peaceful possession of his much-let habitation.