“Get along with you to bed!” cried Miss Wren, snapping him up. “Don’t speak to me. I’m not going to forgive you. Go to bed this moment!”

Seeing another emphatic “What” upon its way, he evaded it by complying and was heard to shuffle heavily upstairs, and shut his door, and throw himself on his bed. Within a little while afterwards, Lizzie came down.

“Shall we have our supper, Jenny dear?”

“Ah! bless us and save us, we need have something to keep us going,” returned Miss Jenny, shrugging her shoulders.

Lizzie laid a cloth upon the little bench (more handy for the person of the house than an ordinary table), and put upon it such plain fare as they were accustomed to have, and drew up a stool for herself.

“Now for supper! What are you thinking of, Jenny darling?”