ing the kitchen, she was surprised to see Bessie sitting idly by the fire. At this hour it was usual for Mr. Byass to have returned, and there was generally an uproar of laughing talk. This evening, dead silence, and a noticeable something in the air which told of trouble. The baby— of course a new baby—lay in a bassinette near its mother, seemingly asleep; the other child was sitting in a high chair by the table, clattering “bricks.”
Bessie did not even look round.
“Is Mr. Byass late?” inquired Jane, in an apprehensive voice.
“He’s somewhere in the house, I believe,” was the answer, in monotone.
Oh dear! Jane recognised a situation which had aleady come under her notice once or twice during the last six months. She drew near, and asked in a low voice:
“What’s happened, Mrs. Byass?”
“He’s a beast! If he doesn’t mind I shall go and leave him. I mean it!”
Bessie was in a genuine fit of sullenness. One of her hands was clenched below her
