‘Should you?’ inquired the cook, ironically. ‘That shows ’ow much _you_ knows about ’ooman natur. That young woman is deeper than the deepest well that was ever dug, and if ever she’s missus here she’ll want to rule everythink with a ’igh ’and. Them mealy-mouthed ones always do. I’d rather ’ave a spit-fire for a missus than one of them soft-spoken young women that go smilin’ through the world as if they was apologizin’ to everybody for bein’ alive. She’ll spend ’is money and she’ll break ’is ’art, and she’ll use all of us like dogs. That’s my opinion about Miss Scratchell, if you wish to know it.’ ‘Lor’, cook! you’re such a one to jump at conclusions,’ said the housemaid, with a somewhat contemptuous shrug. ‘Perhaps I am, Mary; but I generally jumps at ’em right.’ CHAPTER XX. MR. PIPER MAKES AN OFFER. ONE August morning, just about the time of Cyril’s illness, Bella Scratchell found her pupils a shade more averse from the delights of learning, and generally unpleasant in their behaviour, than usual. The morning was sultry, there was thunder in the air, and some of the thunder seemed to have got into the young Pipers, who were as dull and leaden as the sky, and as sulkily silent as the heavy-headed limes on the lawn, whose branches flopped moodily, with never a rustle of leaf or a whisper among the boughs. Then all at once the young Pipers--moved to rebellion by the imposition of a task which seemed too much for their feeble minds--broke into murmurs and grumblings, what time the trees began to rustle and shiver, and talk to one another mysteriously about the fast coming storm, while the birds set up scared twitterings, and chattered of impending peril and desolation. Presently came great drops spattering upon the iron verandah outside the schoolroom window--harbingers of a flood--and then the rain came down in a dense sheet of water, and the lightning flashed pale and sickly illumination over the gray rain-blotted landscape, and the thunder roared awfully, like some infuriated giant threatening Little Yafford, from his lurking-place in a cleft of the hills. The young Pipers gave vent to their terror in shrill screams and yappings, and cowered in corners, with their heads shrouded in their pinafores. They were terrified at the storm, but they were glad of its coming, since it afforded an excellent excuse for avoiding their lessons. ‘You can’t expect us to say French verbs in a thunderstorm,’ remonstrated Elizabeth Fry, when Bella tried to continue her course of instruction. ‘The subjunctive’s difficult enough at the best of times,--a lot of ridiculous words ending in _isse_--but it’s a little too bad with the lightning glaring in one’s face.’ ‘I shouldn’t wonder if ma had asked for this storm on purpose to frighten _you_,’ said Brougham, addressing himself vindictively to his governess. ‘She’s in heaven, you know, and can see how badly you treat us.’