Sheila was getting to look worried and bored. There had been one or two days when the children had been good, but these were generally followed by times of rebellion and misconduct, during which the girl plainly lost heart, and gradually she left the care of them to others. One afternoon she suddenly informed Miss Gregson that she had quite forgotten an engagement she had made with a friend in a neighbouring village. She was so sorry but she could not put it off. "You won't mind, will you, Angel clear, taking care of the children for an hour or two," she said. "One is in duty bound to keep appointments if possible, and Clara would be bitterly disappointed if I did not go." "I will do my best," said Miss Gregson, "but you must forgive any catastrophe which may happen in your absence." "You can manage them better than I can," said Sheila, "I'm not a bit afraid." So after luncheon she ordered the cart, and was only too thankful to get out of sight and sound of the children for a time. Miss Gregson, left to her own resources, determined to strike out a new line for herself. She had a large table placed in the empty room at the top of the house, collected pencils and paper, and after letting the children have a good run in the garden, during which time they did as much mischief as they could manage, scattering mould on the nicely kept paths, and pulling up flowers which they thought to be weeds, Miss Gregson seated them round the table and gave them a drawing lesson. For a time they were interested in what they were doing, though their poor teacher's head ached with the noise which she was quite powerless to stop. But before very long Tommy snatched Dick's pencil from him and received a great thump on his back in return. A free fight ensued. Dick, the eldest of the three boys, punched the delinquent's head, when he immediately set up a howl, the rest of the children crying in chorus. Jemmy was pushed down on to the floor, and it was all that Miss Gregson could do to extricate him from the fighting boys. But what alarmed her more than anything else were the bad words that flew from one little mouth to another. She rang the bell violently; and was thankful to see the panting Jane standing at the door. Jane saw in a moment how matters stood. The tumblers of water had been knocked off the table and broken to pieces. Two of the boys were rolling on the floor kicking and hitting one another, while the three little girls stood looking on, sobbing at the sight of the broken glasses and torn drawings. Miss Gregson had Jemmy on her lap, drying his tears with her pocket handkerchief. Jane managed to separate the fighting, struggling boys, administering at the same time sundry slaps on the miscreants. "Hadn't they better go out into the garden, M'am?" she asked. "Yes I think so," was the answer.