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into some cake-crumbs on her plate. She had an air of preoccupation mingled with disdain. She licked the crumbs off her finger and brushed her lips with a lace handkerchief; then she lifted her head, looked up at the ceiling and seemed to be listening to her own thoughts. The silence nearly defeated Angel. It underlined her loud outburst. The temptation was to begin again, but she resisted it, knowing that Aunt Lottie was expecting, hoping for, her to become hysterical. She sat out the silence. Her mother, the most apprehensive of the three, broke it.
    â€œI think you should apologise to your Aunt Lottie,” she said quietly. “No matter how you may look at the matter, she was only passing on a message. She in no way merited such rudeness.”
    Now Aunt Lottie, still smiling faintly, raised her hand, shook her head quietly. “No apology, please, Emmie, I want no apology.” She kept her voice much quieter than usual, to mark its contrast with Angel’s. “I see that I have looked upon my work wrongly all these years. It never seemed to me to be dishonourable to be serving others. I never saw it in that light. We are all servants of God, I thought. I did my work humbly and as my conscience directed: and was glad to do it. Now I see that I was mistaken. I see that I was wrong not to vaunt myself more, be more puffed-up.” As she warmed to her sarcasm, colour came into her cheeks and her composure began to break; she trembled as her temper rose: she fell into savage repetitions and bitter irony. “I see that humility and unselfishness and ungrudging work are not what are respected. Oh, quite the reverse. It’s setting yourself up as high as you can; giving yourself superior airs, however unwarranted; being too grand to lift your hand to help another, not even your own mother, that’s what’s to be respected, it seems. . . .
    No, please Emmie, may I continue? I have sat here week after week, biting back my words; I can’t contain myself for ever. . . . No, pass on Madam’s message I did, as I at least know what is due to my betters; but never for one moment think that I did anything but dread the consequences. I shall go back now and tell Madam what is true—that I could not be the instrument of bringing to her service what we have never had at Paradise House—vanity, selfishness, ingratitude. I am afraid you and I wasted our money, Emmie. There were times when we used to feel proud of all the learning she was getting, not knowing the seeds it was sowing. What use is French, I ask, if you are to spend your life sponging on your mother. . . . No, please, Emmie, may I . . .? trying to ape the lady? Lady! I will try not to laugh.” She did not succeed; a curious snorting noise came from her. “I have spent my life with ladies and I think I may say that I know where the word applies. I shall be interested to see where all these grand ideas are leading to. Very interested. Very interested indeed.”
    She had gone on too long. She had made the mistake Angel did not make and now she could not stop. Triumphantly, Angel took a slice of bread-and-butter, folded it over and began to eat. She gave the impression that she was doing so only to pass the time; not because she was hungry. She had gained the ascendancy and all three knew it.
    â€œI shall come to your house, Emmie,” Aunt Lottie said. “For your sake, I shall come as usual; but I shall never address you again as long as I live, Angel Deverell, and if you choose to address me, be prepared to be ignored.”
    â€œOh, dear! Oh, dear!” Mrs Deverell moaned.
    â€œAnd what is more,” Aunt Lottie went on, ignoring her previous threat, “don’t expect to get another penny from me, not for any purpose whatsoever; not if you are starving in the gutter. And when I pass on, I hope that whoever I now decide to leave my little nest-egg and my few trinkets to won’t feel themselves above