"It's a good thing to have you at home again, Rose," he said. "Father," I said, suddenly, "I should always like to do what _you_ wish, of course; but I need not obey George, need I?" "Obey George!" echoed my father. "I should think not, indeed. The fellow is growing much too hectoring. Obey George! What next, I wonder?" "He wants me not to go to town to-morrow," I said; "but if you give me leave, I may, may I not?" "Of course, child, of course." "Then I'll tell George that I have your leave. It isn't as if I were a little girl, is it? I shall always wish to please you and mother." My father muttered something which might have signified approval or the reverse; but when George came into the room and began, according to my father's verdict, to hector me once again, he received a sudden and unlooked-for check. I could not help feeling myself quite double, and even deceitful, when I discovered that I had so easily gained my point. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. METHOD IN THIS MADNESS. I came down-stairs the next morning dressed in my best brown cashmere. I had a neat white frill round my throat, and my hair was dressed with attention. I looked smart for me, and I felt certain that George would notice this fact, and begin to make himself disagreeable. The meal that morning was particularly appetising. I myself had seen to this. I had supplemented our inefficient maid-of-all-work's efforts. I had boiled the porridge myself, and took care that it was thick, but not too thick, and that it was smooth in substance and admirably done. I had also made the toast; and that delicate brown toast, crisp and thin, was certain to meet with my somewhat fastidious father's approval. The coffee, too, was strong, and the milk which was to add to its flavour was thoroughly well boiled. While my father drank his fragrant coffee, and munched that thin crisp toast, good humour sat upon his brow, his deep-set and somewhat fierce eyes glanced at me complacently. He made a remark which I was almost certain he would make-- "It is a good thing to have you back again, Rose. I do not need you to tell me, but I am quite certain that we do not owe this breakfast to Bridget." "Yes," suddenly responded George; "it's always well to have a capable woman in the house. You are staying at home of course to-day, Rosamund--the right place for you too. I am sure, sir, you must agree with me," continued George, glancing at my father, "when I say that young women have no business to spend their time gadding about." "Much you know about young women," answered my father. He was about to continue, when I suddenly interrupted. "And I am going to town this morning," I said, in my meekest voice, "and father knows all about it, and he has given me leave." "Tut! I am not so sure of that," said my father, with a frown.