“Yes, I have, Pa.”

He looked so very much astonished, that Bella could not make up her mind to break it to him just yet.

“The consequence is, Pa, that your lovely woman feels a little faint, and would very much like to share your tea.”

The cottage loaf and the pennyworth of milk had been set forth on a sheet of paper on the window-seat. The cherubic pocketknife, with the first bit of the loaf still on its point, lay beside them where it had been hastily thrown down. Bella took the bit off, and put it in her mouth. “My dear child,” said her father, “the idea of your partaking of such lowly fare! But at least you must have your own loaf and your own penn’orth. One moment, my dear. The dairy is just over the way and round the corner.”